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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIF0R^f 

LIBRARY, 

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THE 


STRUCTURE  OF  ENGLISH  PROSE 


A  MANUAL 


COMPOSITION  AND  RHETORIC 


k  fM 


BY 


john  g.  r.  Mcelroy,  a.  m. 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  the  English  Language  in  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania 


"  If,  therefore,  Plato  had  reason  for  writing  over  the  door  of  his  Academy,  'let 
no  one  who  is  not  a  geometrician  enter  here,'  the  Rhetorician  has  equal  reason 
for  inscribing  upon  the  rostrum,  'let  no  one  ascend  here  who  is  not  a  scholar 
and  a  thinker.'  " 


NEW  YORK 

A.   C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON 
No.  714  Broadway 

1S85 


COPYRIGHT   BY 

john  g.  r.  Mcelroy 

iss5 


1 1 1 


c     c      «  »  «     « 


1  .     «  t ' 


■: 


1 «  •    •    •   *  •  • 


7\ 


GRANT   &   FAIRES 
PHILADELPHIA 


■ 


PREFACE. 


The  teacher  of  Rhetoric  has  a  double  office.  First,  and  chiefly, 
he  must  make  writers ;  secondly,  he  must  so  exhibit  the  laws  of  his 
art  as  to  promote  mental  discipline.  In  other  words,  he  must  be 
practical,  without  being  a  mere  empiricist;  he  must  be  rational, 
without  for  an  instant  losing  sight  of  skill  in  composition. 

With  these  views  in  mind,  I  have  tried  to  fill  what  seemed  to  me 
an  empty  place  among  books  on  Rhetoric.  None  of  them,  I 
thought,  aimed  at  practical  results,  without  sacrificing  too  far  the 
principles  of  the  art;  none  of  them  taught  these  principles  in  their 
fullness,  without  sacrificing  in  part  or  in  whole  the  practical  side 
of  the  work.  I  have  aimed  to  strike  the  happy  medium, — to  make 
a  book  that  shall  teach  composition  while  it  forces  the  student  to 
think,  and  shall  exhibit  the  principles  of  the  art  at  the  same  time 
that  it  keeps  uppermost  the  problem  How  to  Write.  I  have  adopted 
Dr.  Shedd's  words  quoted  on  my  title-page,  accepting  fully  the 
doctrine  that  Thought  is  more  than  Style,  and  modifying  this  doc- 
trine only  by  one  other  truth — -a  truth  to  which  Dr.  Shedd  would 
doubtless  equally  assent — that  worthy  thought  deserves,  as  it  pro- 
motes, an  excellent  form.  This,  by  the  way,  is  Herbert  Spencer's 
opinion,  too.  Though  he  extols  practice,  he  adds,  "  Never- 
theless, some  practical  result  may  be  expected  from  a  familiarity 
with  the  principles  of  style.  ...  If  in  no  other  way,  yet,  as  facili- 
tating revision,  a  knowledge  of  the  thing  to  be  achieved — a  clear 
idea  of  what  constitutes  a  beauty,  and  what  a  blemish — can  not  fail 
to  be  of  service." 

I  have  also  tried  to  exhibit  the  laws  of  Rhetoric  in  their  entirety, 
— not  the  laws  of  Style  alone,  but  also  those  of  Invention.  How- 
ever we  may  quibble  about  that  word  Invention  in  its  rhetorical 
sense,  Rhetoric  does  teach  other  laws  than  those  of  Form;  and 
these  laws  must  be  exhibited,  if  the  art  is  to  be  taught  fully.  I 
admit  freely  that,  in  a  book  whose  chief  aim  is  skill  in  composition, 
Invention  will  occupy  a  considerably  less  number  of  pages  than 
Style  ;  and,  hence,  even  after  saying  what  I  have  said  of  the  superior 
importance  of  Invention  \_\  32],  I  have  given  by  far  the  greater 
portion  of  my  whole  space  to  Style.     The  questions  discussed  under 


4  PREFACE. 

the  head  of  Invention  are  largely  theoretical ;  and  their  full  exposi- 
tion belongs  either  to  a  distinctively  theoretical  treatise  on  Rhetoric 
or  to  the  several  sciences  that  furnish  the  theory  of  the  art.  Were 
Rhetoric  now,  as  it  once  was,  a  purely  disciplinary  study  of  Senior 
year,  my  book  would  have  taken  an  entirely  different  form  ;  but, 
in  view  of  the  wholesome  change  in  our  college  work  which  assumes, 
not  that  the  men  know  their  mother-tongue  because  they  speak  it, 
but  that,  sadly  ignorant  of  this  mother-tongue,  they  need  lessons  in 
English,  even  more  than  they  need  the  discipline  of  foreign  lan- 
guages, ancient  or  modern, — in  view  of  this  change,  I  have  tried  to 
make  a  book  that  shall  start  our  younger  college  students  and  the 
older  students  in  high  schools  and  academies  on  the  only  road, 
difficult  as  it  is,  to  a  mastery  of  English  composition. 

The  limitation  of  the  book  to  Prose  has  been  adopted,  because  I 
believe  that  every  one  who  will  apply  himself  can  acquire  appre- 
ciable skill  in  this  kind  of  writing;  while  Poetry  and  Romance 
are  products  of  exceptionally  endowed  minds.  But  I  have  not 
scrupled  to  quote  examples  in  verse,  both  because  of  their  superior 
interest  in  certain  cases,  and  because,  in  many  respects,  all  kinds 
of  composition  obey  the  same  laws,  and  verse  may  sometimes  ex- 
emplify these  laws  better  than  prose. 

The  work  is  the  product  of  my  own  teaching.  Circumstances  led 
me  about  eight  years  ago  to  write  a  course  of  lectures  for  my  class, 
with  which  to  replace  the  text-book  then  in  use.  Later  I  printed 
an  abstract  of  these  lectures;  and  now  this  abstract  has  grown  into 
an  entire  work.  I  do  not  wish  to  boast,  much  less  to  anticipate 
criticism ;  but  the  course  has  never  yet  failed  to  yield  in  large 
measure  the  fruit  expected  of  it. 

From  the  many  works  on  Rhetoric,  acknowledged  and  obscure,  an- 
cient and  modern,  I  have  sought  both  light  and  help.  I  am  indebted, 
therefore,  to  all  these  writers:  indeed,  although  I  have  in  the  main 
sought  new  examples  and  illustrations  for  the  rules,  yet  I  must  adopt 
Dr.  Austin  Phelps's  words  ; — "  I  have  not  scrupled  to  use  any  material 
which  has  seemed  to  me  adapted  to  my  purpose.  I  have  appropri- 
ated principles  of  which  no  one  knows  the  origin  ;  I  have  employed 
illustrations,  some  of  which  belong  to  the  common  stock  of  rhetor- 
ical discussion."  With  him,  too,  I  can  excuse  myself  for  not  always 
noting  the  sources  whence  I  drew  my  material,  on  the  ground  that 
even  "to  name  them  would  be  in  part  commonplace,  and  in  part 
pedantic."  •  To  one  writer,  however,  I  must  make  especial  acknowl- 
edgments. Early  in  my  professorship,  The  Art  of  Discourse,  by 
Prof.  Henry  N.  Day,  taught  me  the  outline  of  a  systematic  Rhetoric, 
and  so  gave  my  studies  a  direction  they  have  never  since  lost. 
Prof.  Day  will  doubtless  smile,  should  he  ever  honor  me  by  turning 
my  pages,  to  think  that  he  could  have  stimulated  the  production  of 


PREFACE.  5 

a  work  so  unlike  his  as  is  mine:  yet  I  hold  to  my  confession.  I 
believe  there  is  nothing  extant  even  purporting  to  have  been 
written  by  Timothy;  but,  if  there  were,  it  would  doubtless  be  as 
little  Pauline  as  are  the  epistles  of  James  or  Peter.  Yet  Timothy 
was  "son  in  the  faith"  to  Paul,  and  evidently  his  particular  disciple. 
Many  friends — more  than  I  could  readily  mention  here — have 
helped  me  in  my  work.  Besides  the  names  that  appear  in  several 
foot-notes,  the  names  of  my  colleagues,  Professor  Albert  S.  Bolles 
and  Mr.  Louis  Du  Pont  Syle,  must  be  specially  recorded.  To  Pro- 
fessor Bolles  I  owe  what  is  worth  more  than  help, — continual  and 
hearty  encouragement,  even  when  I  was  most  discouraged.  Mr. 
Syle  kindly  made  the  Index. 


J.  G.  R.  McE. 


University  of  Pennsylvania, 
February  26,  1S85. 


SUGGESTION. 


The  author's  own  experience  with  his  book  leads  him  to  suggest 
to  his  fellow  teachers  that  the  best  results  with  it  may  be  obtained 
by  omitting  until  review  nearly  all  paragraphs  in  the  smaller 
type.  Then  these  paragraphs,  which,  as  a  rule,  are  theoretical 
rather  than  practical,  will  be  the  more  easily  understood.  Of  course, 
examples  and  illustrative  extracts  must  be  excepted ;  but  these  are 
not  commonly  numbered  as  separate  paragraphs.  The  judicious 
teacher,  however,  will  modify  this  plan  at  his  discretion. 

The  Appendix  is  intended  almost  exclusively  for  the  teacher. 


c  AXw. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION, Page  9 

Rhetoric  Defined,  9  ;  Rhetoric  Proper  and  Composition, 
12;  Sciences  that  give  Laws  to  Rhetoric,  14;  Funda- 
mental Maxims,  16;  Departments  of  Rhetoric,  19; 
Kinds  of  Discourse,  23. 

PART  FIRST.— STYLE, 50 

Grammatical  Purity,  53  :  Standard  of  Purity,  55 ;  The 
Characteristics  of  Good  Use,  64  ;  Offences  against 
Purity,  69  ;  Exceptions,  114;  Divided  Use,  125. 

The  Elements  of  Style,  132:  Vocabulary,  133;  The 
Sentence,  160;  The  Paragraph,  196;  The  Whole  Com- 
position, 223  ;  Figures  of  Speech,  235. 

The  Qualities  of  Style,  247 :  Significance,  248  ;  Con- 
tinuousness,  250;  Naturalness,  250;  Simplicity,  252; 
Clearness,  254 ;  Force,  262 ;  Pathos,  268 ;  Humor,  Satire, 
Wit,  271 ;  Melody,  Harmony,  275  ;  Variety,  27S  ;  Ele- 
gance, 278. 

PART  SECOND.— INVENTION, 281 

The  Theme,  282. 

The  Discussion,  2S7  :  General  Rules,  28S  ;  Modes  of  Dis- 
cussion, 290  ;  Explanation,  291  ;  Definition,  292 ;  Nar- 
ration, 296  ;  Description,  299  ;  Division,  306  ;  Partition, 
307 ;  Exemplification,  307 ;  Comparison  and  Contrast, 
308 ;  Argument,  309 ;  Excitation,  320  ;  Persuasion,  324. 

APPENDIX, 329 

The  Definition  of  Rhetoric,  329 ;  Science,  Art,  Criticism, 
331 ;  Pure  and  Applied  Science,  331  ;  Theory,  332 ; 
True  Method  of  Studying  Rhetoric,  334 ;  Technical 
Terms,  336  ;  The  Latin  Word  Tropus,  336. 

INDEX, 337 


THE 

STRUCTURE  OF  ENGLISH  PROSE. 


INTRODUCTION. 


i. 

RHETORIC    DEFINED. 

i.  Rhetoric  is  the  Art  of  Discourse1, — the  Art 
of  Communicating  Thought  in  Language. 

2.  In  no  proper  sense,  is  Rhetoric  a  science  ;  nor  should  it  be 
defined  as  the  art  of  effective  discourse.  It  discovers  nothing ; 
it  is  like  all  other  arts  in  aiming  at  efficient  work  ;  and  its  full 
definition,  therefore,  is  that  just  given.  The  discussion  of  these 
questions,  however,  belongs  elsewhere.2 

3.  A  more  familiar  word  for  Discourse  is  Composi- 
tion,— a  synonym  that  will  be  used  freely  in  these  pages. 
The  more  technical  term  seems  necessary  in  the  definition, 
however,  if  only  for  clearness'  sake  ;  since  Composition 
also  denotes  Practical  Rhetoric  as  opposed  to  the  Theory 
of  the  art.3 

4.  Thought4  is  here  intended  in  its  widest  significa- 
tion. In  a  certain  sense,  the  mind  thinks  whenever  it 
acts ;  and  in  this  sense,  Thought  is  the  product  of  any 
mental  action.    Hence,  Dr.  Campbell  speaks  of  Rhetoric 

1  H.  N.  Day,  The  Ait  of  Discourse,  jj  1.  8§  10,  below. 

3  Appendix,  pp.  329  ff.  *§i,  above. 

9 


IO  INTRODUCTION. 

as  ' '  the  grand  art  of  communication,  not  of  ideas  only, 
bid  of  sentiments,  passions,  dispositions,  and  purposes1," 
— in  a  word,  the  art  of  communicating  any  product  of  the 
mental  faculties.  Exactly  how  much  is  intended  by  the 
term  will  appear  from  the  following'  analysis. 

5.  The  human  mind  acts  in  three  ways  ; — it  knows,  it  feels, 
it  wills.  Hence,  three  modes  of  mental  activity,  or  (as  they 
are  otherwise  called)  mental  faculties, — 1.  Intellect,  or 
Cognition  ;  2.  Sensibility,  or  Feeling  ;  3.  Will.  The 
Intellectual,  or  Cognitive  Faculties  may  (for  present  purposes) 
be  distinguished  as  (1)  Presentative,  (2)  Representative,  (3) 
Elaborative.  The  Presentative  Faculties  include  (a)  Intuition, 
or  Self-consciousness,  the  power  of  knowing  what  is  going  on  in 
one's  own  mind ;  (b)  Perception,  the  power  of  knowing  through 
the  senses.  The  Re-presentative  Faculties  are  (a)  Memory, 
which  re-presents  objects  as  real ;  (b)  Imagination,  which  re- 
presents them  as  ideal.  The  Elaborative  Faculties  are  (a)  Con- 
ception, or  Generalization,  the  power  of  forming  class-ideas  ; 
(b)  Judgment,  the  power  of  comparing  conceptions  (or  one  con- 
ception with  an  intuition  or  a  perception)  and  affirming  their 
agreement  or  disagreement ;  (c)  Reasoning,  the  power  of  com- 
paring judgments. 

6.  Words  that  either  present  or  re-present  intuitions,  percep- 
tions, or  conceptions,  are  called  Terms.  I-Jence,  Judgment  is 
the  power  of  comparing  terms. 

7.  Language2  primarily  and  chiefly  means  articulate 
speech  or  alphabetic  writing  ;  but  many  principles  of 
Rhetoric  apply  equally  well  to  the  communication  of 
thought  by  other  means.  Signs,  symbols,  pictures, 
statues, — all  express  thought,  and  in  so  far  are  amenable 
to  the  laws  of  Rhetoric.  Indeed,  both  picture-writing 
and  symbolism  are  older  than  the  alphabet, — are  the 
sources  from  which  the  alphabet  took  its  rise. 

8.  The  truth  of  this  statement  will  hardly  be  challenged  by 
any  one  who  reflects  that  the  medium  of  communication  is  of 
secondary   importance, — that    the  essential    characteristic  of 

1  The  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,  Introduction. 


RHETORIC    DEFINED.  II 

discourse  is  its  communicating  thought.  The  mode  of  commu- 
nication may  vary  ;  but,  so  long  as  thought  is  communicated, 
so  long  must  the  process  be  governed  in  certain  particulars  by 
the  same  rules.  For  example,  the  artist,  who  has  this  end  at 
least  partly  in  view,  is  directed  in  his  work  by  certain  laws 
that  are  equally  binding  upon  the  writer.  The  laws  of  unity, 
of  definiteness  and  continuousness,  of  proper  resolution  of  the 
subject  into  its  several  parts,  as  well  as  many  other  rules,  direct 
both  workers  alike,— and  for  the  same  reason,  that  both  seek 
to  communicate  thought.  Lessing1  has  actually  asserted  that 
Painting  can  express  some  kinds  of  thought  better  than  Poetry. 
9.  Further,  ( if  further  discussion  is  necessary,)  the  case  of 
the  deaf-mute  is  strongly  in  point.  Until  he  acquires  his  sign- 
language,  his  mind  lies  dormant,  failing  of  its  office  because  it 
lacks  a  means  of  communication.  But,  this  once  furnished, 
even  if  he  does  not  learn  to  articulate,  his  mind  develops  and 
admits  of  the  highest  education.  The  idiot,  on  the  other  hand, 
can  never  be  relieved  because  he  cannot  receive  thought, 
however  it  is  addressed  to  him.  Midway  stands  the  feeble- 
minded child,  who  is  capable  of  training  exactly  in  proportion 
to  his  degree  of  mental  endowment.  An  extreme  case  of  a 
mind  aroused  to  the  exercise  of  all  its  faculties,  simply  by 
receiving  a  medium  of  communication,  and  this  not  language 
in  the  ordinary  sense,  is  that  of  Miss  Laura  Bridgman,  who, 
though  born  deaf  and  dumb  and  blind,  was  taught  through  the 
sense  of  touch.  Moreover,  gestures  and  facial  signs  not  only 
add  to  the  effectiveness  of  spoken  discourse,  but,  it  is  said, 
were  the  only  means  by  which  the  famous  conspiracy  of  the 
Sicilian  Vespers  was  inaugurated  and  carried  to  a  successful 
issue.2  So,  the  Greek  sculptor  carved  motion  by  setting  one 
foot  of  his  statue  in  front  of  the  other. 

1  Laocoon,  xx.,  xxi.— Of  course,  he  concedes,  too,  the  limitations  of  Painting 
and  its  cognate  arts.     ( See  ft  369  IT. ,  below. ) 

2  Geo.  P.  Marsh,  Lectures  on  the  English  Language,  p.  34. 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

II. 

RHETORIC   PROPER  AND  COMPOSITION. 

io.  As  thus  broadly  denned,  Rhetoric  includes  studies 
of  two  widely  different  kinds  ; — (i)  Theoretical  Discus- 
sions of  Rhetorical  Rides  and  Principles, — Rhetoric 
Proper,  or  simply  Rhetoric  ;  (2)  Practice  in  the 
actual  work  of  Constructing  Discourse, — Composition. 

11.  "Rhetoric  and  Oratory,"  says  John  Ouincy 
Adams,1  "are  to  be  distinguished  as  properly  applying, 
the  former  to  the  theory,  and  the  latter  to  the  practice  of 
the  art."  By  oratory,  Mr.  Adams  meant  composition2 ; 
so  that  his  statement  fully  supports  that  made  in  §  10. 
Prof.  Day,  too,  calls  his  theoretical  treatise  The  Art  of 
Discourse  (that  is,  Rhetoric),  but  his  more  practical  (as 
well  as  more  elementary)  work  The  Art  of  English 
Composition. 

12.  The  distinction  results  from  the  fact  that,  in  every  art, 
there  may  be  distinguished  three  elements; — (1)  Rules,  which 
guide  and  control  the  practice  of  the  art;  (2)  Scientific  Prin- 
ciples, which  underlie  the  rules,  and  explain  or  justify  them  ; 
(3)  Practice,  the  application  of  both  rules  and  principles  to 
actual  work.  Thus,  in  Drawing,  the  pupil  is  not  simply  given 
a  copy  or  a  model,  and  told  to  reproduce  it  on  his  paper  :  he  is 
taught,  also,  rules  for  his  guidance  while  at  work,  and  prin- 
ciples— of  form,  of  light  and  shade,  of  perspective — for  the 
elucidation  of  his  rules.  So,  in  Engineering,  in  Analytical 
Chemistry,  in  every  art,  rules  and  principles  at  every  step 
direct  the  practical  work,  and  throw  light  upon  it.  Indeed,  if, 
in  any  art,  one  of  these  three  elements  is  wanting,  the  art  is  yet 
in  embryo,  or  the  missing  element  undeveloped.3  In  the  Art 
of  Discourse,  (1)  and  (2)  constitute  Rhetoric  Proper;  (3)  is 
Composition. 

13.  Further,  rules  and  principles,  as  true  in  all  cases  to  which 
they  apply,  are  in  this  respect  essentially  opposed  to  the  prac- 
tical application  of  rules  or  principles  to  special   examples. 

1  Lectures,  I.  p.  34.  !  Appendix,  p.  336.  3  Appendix,  p.  333. 


RHETORIC    PROPER    AND    COMPOSITION.  13 

The  methods  of  study  in  each  case  must,  therefore,  be  different, 
and  a  distinction  between  the  two  departments  be  inevitable. 
Not  to  concede  this  is  only  to  create  confusion  and  to  place 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  student.  Of  course,  rhetorical 
rules  may  be  studied  simply  as  rules,  and  not  in  the  light  of 
their  underlying  principles,  just  as  the  principles  may  be  studied 
as  such,  and  not  with  a  view  to  formulating  rules  that  are  to  be 
based  upon  them  ;  but,  in  either  case, — and  neither  is  usual  or 
likely  to  occur, — the  study  is  still  Theoretical  Rhetoric,  and  is 
opposed  in  the  sense  stated  to  the  practice  of  Composition,  or 
Practical  Rhetoric.  This  is  true,  too,  whether  the  practical 
work  proceeds  only  by  "rules  of  thumb,"  (that  is,  by  unex- 
plained rules,  rules  without  their  underlying  scientific  truths — 
their  rationale,)  or  whether  this  rationale  is  in  every  case  care- 
fully given  with  the  rule. 

14.  But  the  distinction  must  not  be  carried  too  far. 
Rhetoric  and  Composition  are  not  wholly  separable. 
Each  implies  the  other  ;  each  contributes  to  the  other's 
improvement.  Of  course,  either  can  be  conceived  of 
separately  ;  either  can  at  any  time  command  the  chief 
attention  ;  but  the  two  studies  are  in  fact  only  one, — a 
single  object  approached  from  different  sides. 

15.  To  speak  more  technically,  Theory  and  Practice  are  cor- 
relatives, implying  each  other,  and  having  their  common 
ground  of  relation  in  the  nature  of  Art  as  art.  Practice  unfail- 
ingly tends  to  develop  theory  ;  theoretical  discussion  as  inevit- 
ably makes  practice  more  perfect.  Certain  art-practice,  it  is 
true,  seems  to  be  wholly  unguided  by  either  rule  or  principle ; 
but,  in  fact,  it  is  not  so.  Every  one  who  practices  an  art, 
though  in  ever  so  unintelligent  a  way,  acquires  by  his  experi- 
ence both  rules  and  principles  ;  and  these,  though  he  never 
formulates  them,  really  control  and  direct  his  work.1 

1  Appendix,  p.  335. 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

III. 
THE  SCIENCES  THAT  GIVE  LAWS  TO  RHETORIC. 

1 6.  The  scientific  principles  that  underlie  the  rules  of 
Rhetoric  come  from  (i)  Grammar,  the  Science  of  the 
Sentence,  (2)  Logic,  the  Science  of  Thought,  (3) 
-/Esthetics,  the  Science  of  Beauty,  and  (4)  Ethics,  the 
Science  of  Morals  ; — the  four  sciences  nomothetical,  or 
law-giving,  to  Rhetoric.1  The  first  two  contribute 
most  largely  to  the  theory  of  the  art ;  but  the  principles 
furnished  by  the  others  are  of  no  less  value,  and  cannot 
properly  be  left  out  of  sight.  Though  in  no  sense  a  part 
of  Rhetoric,  these  sciences  stand  in  such  close  relations 
to  it,  that  at  least  some  knowledge  of  them  is  essential 
to  any  one  who  would  comprehend  the  subject  on  its 
theoretical  side.  Exactly  what  these  relations  are  will 
appear  from  the  following  considerations. 

17.  (a)  The  writing  of  a  composition  involves  (1)  the  finding 
of  something  to  say — the  Matter,  or  Content,  of  Discourse — 
Thought ;  (2)  the  embodying  of  this  "  something  to  say"  in  a 
correct  Form,  or  Style  ;  and  (3)  the  adapting  of  the  whole  work 
(and  its  every  part)  to  its  Purpose,  or  End  in  View.  But,  (1) 
the  science  of  Thought  is  Logic.  (2)  Form  is  either  (a)  out- 
ward and  bodily — in  Discourse,  the  language  used  to  convey 
thought — or  (b)  inward  and  spiritual — that  something  which 
appeals  to  our  sense  of  Beauty}  The  principles  of  language  are 
taught  by  Grammar  :  the  science  of  the  Beautiful  is  ^Esthetics. 
(3)  "Discourse  is  more  than  mere  thought,  more  than  mere 

1  The  Greek  nomotlietes  was  not  only  a  proposer  of  a  law,  but  also  (and 
primarily)  a  law-giver,  like  Solon  or  Lycurgus.  Hence,  notnotketical  may 
properly  be  used  in  the  sense  of  law-giving. 

2  Compare  Spenser,  An  Hymne  in  Honour  of  Beautie,  11.  S9  and  132: — 

"  Confesse  it  then, 
That  Beautie  is  not,  as  fond  men  misdeeme, 
An  outward  shew  of  thinges  that  only  seeme. 
For  of  the  sou/e  the  bodie  forme  doth  take  ; 
For  soule  is  forme,  and  doth  the  bodie  make." 
So,  Robert  Browning,  Old  Pictures  in  Florence,  11: — 


SCIENCES    THAT    GIVE    LAWS    TO    RHETORIC.  15 

thought  uttered  or  formed  ;  it  is  thought  communicated,  imply- 
ing a  mind  addressed  in  the  communication."1  Hence,  in 
every  rhetorical  process,  a  mutually  related  speaker  and 
hearer,2 — a  speaker  and  a  hearer,  whose  relations  to  each  other 
are,  of  course,  moral.     The  science  of  Morals  is  Ethics. 

18.  (b)  These  underlying  principles  are  not  discovered  or  dis- 
coverable by  Rhetoric  ;  nor  can  their  truth  or  falsity  be  deter- 
mined by  it.  They  form  parts  of  four  great  systems  of  truths, 
constructed  each  by  itself  and  for  its  own  sake,  and  brought 
into  relation  to  Rhetoric,  only  when  the  latter,  having  formu- 
lated its  rules  for  art-work,  presents  these  rules  to  the  sciences 
for  explanation  or  justification.3  Further,  the  evidence  by 
which  the  laws  ol  Rhetoric  are  established  is  peculiar  in  each 
case  to  the  science  from  which  the  underlying  principle  comes  ; 
and  with  this  evidence,  therefore,  Rhetoric  has  nothing  what- 
ever to  do. 

"  When  Greek  Art  ran  and  reached  the  goal, 

Thus  much  had  the  world  to  boast  in  fructu — 

The  truth  of  Man,  as  by  God  first  spoken 
Which  the  actual  generations  garble 

Was  re-uttered, — and  Soul  (which  Limbs  betoken) 
And  Limbs  (Soul  informs)  were  made  new  in  marble."  * 


*For  this  confirmation  of  Spenser  the  author  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Mark  Wilks 
Collet,  of  Germantown,  who  was  already  a  reader  of  Browning  in  his  Sopho- 
more year. 

1  Day,  The  Art  of  Discourse,  §  4. — The  italics  are  inserted  here. 

2  Or  writer  and  reader.  For  brevity's  sake,  only  one  pair  of  these  terms 
(which  must  occur  incessantly)  will  commonly  be  written. 

3  Appendix,  p.  333. 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

IV. 
FUNDAMENTAL   MAXIMS. 

19.  The  sciences  nomothetical  to  Rhetoric  furnish  it 
with  four  Dicta,  or  fundamental  maxims,  which  serve  as 
guides  throughout  the  course.  They  set  forth  in  minia- 
ture the  whole  body  of  scientific  truths  on  which  the 
rules  of  Rhetoric  depend.     They  are, — 

I.  The  Dictum  of  Grammar. —  The  writer  must 
conform  to  the  usage  of  the  language  he  employs. 

II.  The  Dictum  of  Logic. —  The  thought  commu- 
nicated must  be  genuine. 

III.  The  Dictum  of  Esthetics. —  The  Composition 
imist  appeal  to  and  stimulate  the  sense  of  Beauty. 

IV.  The  Dictum  of  Ethics. — Discourse  must  pro- 
ceed upon  moral  principles, — those  which  control  the  rela- 
tion of  man  to  man. 

The  full  meaning  of  these  rules  will  appear  hereafter. 
Dicta  II.,  III.,  and  IV.,  however,  need  a  few  words  here, 
by  way  of  special  explanation. 

20.  First,  "genuine  thought,"  like  genuine  money,  is 
exactly  what  it  seems  to  be.  Spurious  thought,  on  the  con- 
trary, has  all  the"  forms  of  genuine  thought,  but  as  little  as  . 
may  be  of  its  matter.  The  mind  of  man,  by  virtue  of  its  own 
constitution,  acts  normally  in  certain  ways,  according  to  certain 
laws.  These  laws  have  been  discovered  and  codified  by  Logic  ; 
so  that  normal  mental  action  is  also  logical.  Hence,  when  the 
writer,  for  whatever  reason  ; — whether  because  he  is  fundament- 
ally incapable  of  thinking  clearly,  or  because,  in  his  anxiety  to 
express  himself  well,  he  forgets  to  have  something  worthy  to 
say,  or  even,  perhaps,  because  he  actually  desires  to  deceive 
his  reader;— when,  from  whatever  cause,  he  violates  the  laws 
of  Logic,  he  becomes  a  mere  counterfeiter,  a  companion  (in 
some  sense)  of  the  coiner  of  spurious  gold.  For  example,  he 
may  use  language  that  seems  to  convey  thought,  while,  in  fact, 
it  only  covers  with  a  cloud  of  words  the  mere  pretence  of 
thinking,  — a  pretence  that,  if  exposed  nakedly  to  other  minds, 
would  be  at  once  detected  ;  and  he  may  do  this  consciously  or 


FUNDAMENTAL   MAXIMS.  1 7 

unconsciously.  Or  he  may  maliciously  choose  such  form:;  i  r 
such  matter  of  cli  11  deceive  the  unwary  i 

In  any  case,  he  is  dealing  unfairly  both  by  him  i  If  and  by  his 
reader  as  rational  beings  ;  ho  is  violat  th  his  own  and  his 

reader's   mental   constitution.      This   method   of   di  i  i 

sometimes  contemptuously  spoken  of  as  "rhetorical,"  in  oppo- 
sition (expressed  or  implied)  to  the  "logical  "  method  ;  but  as 
here  defined, — truly  rhetorical  discourse  is  logical,  and  the 
shrewdest  logician  (as  does  every  thinker)  finds  di 
impossible,  except  in  conscious  or  unconscious  obedience  to  I 
laws  of  Rhetoric.  The  question  whether  such  an  iilogician1 
errs  wittingly  or  not,  belongs  to  Ethics,  is  one  with  which  the 
Dictum  of  Logic  does  not  and  cannot  concern  itself.  Its  busi- 
ness is  only  with  the  genuineness  or  the  spuriousness  of 
thought;  its  duty,  only  to  remind  the  writer  that,  in  the  same 
sense  in  which  noble  birth  or  good  br  puts  a  man  under 

special  bonds  to  discharge  his  whole  duty  in  every  walk  of  life, 
so  the  rationality  that  constitutes  man's  distinctive  mark  among 
animals  demands  from  him  special  fidelity  to  the  laws  of  his 
intellectual  nature. 

21.  Secondly,  "beauty"  is  a  relative  term,  and  the  standard 
of  taste  has  varied  in  different  ages  and  different  lands.  Hence, 
though  it  cannot  be  true  that  "there  is  no  disputing  about 
tastes," — in  the  sense,  at  least,  in  which  this  proverb  is  com- 
monly quoted, — yet  it  is  true  that  the  beauty  of  plainness  or 
even  of  ruggedness,  as  well  as  the  beauty  of  grace,  of  polish, 
or  of  inherent  loveliness,  is  intended  by  the  term  as  used  in  I 
dictum,  and  that,  for  certain  purposes  in  Composition,  con- 
formity to  the  dictum  may  lie  in  the  ace 

of  taste  different  from  that  of  either  our  own  day  or  our  own 
nation.2 

22.  Thirdly,  the  meaning  of  the  Dictum  of  Ethics  is  not  that, 
in  order  to  success  in  Composition,  the  writer  must  teach  only 
what  is  true,  but  that,  in  every  communication  of  th  no 
matter  what  its  subject  or  its  purpose,  he  must  proceed  \\\i  >n 
principles  disc              by  Ethics  to  be  laws  of  th 

of  man.     The  rhetorical  m  ■  unfortunal  plic- 

able  to  apologizing  for  wrong         to  champio  ,  to 

-If  this  word   is  "mad  I   than 

villi  quite  as  useful.     The  phrase  ill  . 

a  far  different  thought. 

2  3  34°  below. 

2 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

lying  as  to  truth-telling  ;  but,  in  whatever  application,  they  are 
powerless  when  used  in  forgetfulness  or  in  contradiction  of  the 
fundamental  relations  of  men  to  each  other.  The  dictum  is 
not  a  table  of  the  Ten  Commandments,  but  a  warning  that  all 
attempts  to  address  men  in  violation  of  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  their  nature  must  fail.  For  example,  it  is  a  well- 
known  truth  that  ruthlessly  to  assail  the  prejudices  of  men  is 
not  commonly  successful  as  a  means  to  persuasion.  Hence, 
should  an  orator  wish  to  influence  the  voters  of  a  certain 
election-district,  or  to  induce  men  to  abandon  certain  bad 
habits,  Rhetoric  will  warn  him  that  he  must  approach  his  sub- 
ject warily,  carefully  finding  his  way  through  his  listeners' 
prejudices,  and  opening  his  battery  of  arguments  against  the 
favorite  candidate  or  the  allowed  bad  habit,  only  when  he  feels 
the  ground  thus  made  firm  under  his  feet.1  No  Morey  Letter, 
even  when  issued  as  a  "  Last  Card  to  the  Voter, ' '  ever,  perhaps, 
changed  the  vote  of  a  fair-minded  man  ;  no  Counterblast  to 
Tobacco,  even  though  from  a  royal  pen,  ever  cured  excessive 
smoking;  no  unsympathetic  denunciation  of  intemperance 
ever  won  the  drunkard  from  his  evil  ways.  Discourse  is  a 
communication  of  thought  from  man  to  man ;  and  hence,  if  it 
is  to  achieve  its  purpose,  it  must  be  guided  at  all  points  by 
those  ethical  truths  which  unfold  the  nature  of  the  relations 
of  men  to  each  other. 

1 1  430,  below. 


THE    DEPARTMENTS    OF   RHETORIC.  19 


THE   DEPARTMENTS   OF   RHETORIC. 

23.  The  rules  of  Rhetoric  fall  naturally  into  two  De- 
partments, long  known  by  the  Latin  names  Inven- 
tion 1  and  Style.2  Invention  states  the  rules  that  direct 
and  control  the  discovery  of  matter  for  the  composition  ; 
Style  exhibits  the  laws  of  its  form. 

24.  As  already  stated,3  the  writing  of  a  composition  involves 
(1)  the  finding  of  something  to  say,  (2)  the  expression  of  this 
something  in  a  suitable  form,  (3)  the  adapting  of  the  whole 
work  and  its  every  part  to  its  purpose.  But  the  composition 
can  be  adapted  to  its  purpose  only  by  means  of  modifications 
in  either  its  matter  or  its  form  ;  and  hence  there  are  but  two 
departments  of  Rhetoric,  not  three. 

25.  For  a  similar  reason,  the  ancient  view  that  Disposition, 
or  Arrangement,  constitutes  a  separate  department  of  the  art, 
must  be  set  aside.  So  far  as  the  arrangement  of  the  matter  of 
a  composition  is  concerned,  the  rules  that  control  it  belong 
to  Invention  ;  so  far  as  arrangement  is  a  question  of  form,  it 
belongs  under  Style.  Besides,  since  every  rational  process 
implies  decency  and  order,  Arrangement  can  not  be  a  depart- 
ment of  Rhetoric,  but  must  be  assumed  throughout. 

26.  Many  writers  deny  the  possibility  of  such  a  department  of 
Rhetoric  as  Invention.  They  aver  that  men  can  not  be  taught 
how  to  find  something  to  say  ;  since,  if  they  could,  Rhetoric 
would  be  the  encyclopaedic  art  dreamed  of  by  Quintilian, — an 
art  under  obligations  to  give  lessons  in  all  the  known  branches 
of  learning.  On  the  contrary,  they  say,  it  is  only  the  art  of 
communication,  originating-  nothing,  and  prescribing  merely 
the  forms  of  expression,  not  the  matter  that  is  to  wear  these 
forms. 

27.  But  this  mode  of  reasoning  is  simply  an  evasion  of  the 
point  at  issue.  The  question  is  not,  Can  Rhetoric  teach  men 
what  to  say  on  every  conceivable  subject?  but,  Can  Rhetoric 

1  Inventio,  a  finding. 

2  Stilus,  an  instrument  used  for  writing  on  wax.  Often,  but  improperly, 
spelled  stylus,  as  if  from  Greek  <ttGAos,  a  pillar.  [Skeat,  Etymological  Diction- 
ary, s.  v.     The  Greek  word  for  style  was  Aefis.] 

3'i  17,  above. 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

teach  men  Jiow  to  find  something  to  say  on  any  subject?  In 
other  words,  can  it  teach  men  the  methods  by  which  they 
must  proceed  in  their  search  after  the  matter  of  a  composition? 
No  one  pretends  to-day  that  Rhetoric  ought  to  make  a  man  a 
Johannes  Factotum  (Greene's  phrase  for  a.  Jack  of  ait  Trades), 
any  more  than  that  Rhetoric  ought  to  furnish  the  words,  con- 
structions, and  other  instruments  of  speech  needed  by  a  writer. 
The  assertion  is  only  that,  jnst  as,  in  Style,  Rhetoric  teaches 
rules  that  determine  the  Form  of  a  composition,  so,  in  Inven- 
tion, it  teaches  rules  that  determine  its  Content.  In  each 
department,  of  course,  it  leaves  the  writer  to  apply  the  rules  to 
the  special  cases  that  arise  in  the  course  of  his  work  ;  the  art 
being  no  more  under  obligations  to  supply  the  matter  of  dis- 
course than  to  supply  the  needed  forms  of  expression.  It  is 
quite  a  different  thing,  however,  to  say  that  Rhetoric  has  for 
the  thought  to  be  expressed  rules  quite  analogous  to  those 
which  it  has  for  the  expression  of  the  thought. 

28.  That  Rhetoric  can  determine  such  rules,  and  that  it  has, 
therefore,  a  department  of  Invention,  is  best  shown  by  the  fact 
that  such  rules  exist.  The  very  books  which  declare  most 
positively  that  Rhetoric  teaches  only  Style,  contain  rules  that 
are  certainly  not  laws  of  Style,  and  which  must  therefore  belong- 
to  a  second  department  of  the  art,  by  whatever  name  it  may  be 
known.  Further,  while  Rhetoric  i ;,  indeed,  the  art  of  commu- 
nication, and  goes  to  its  nomothetical  sciences  fjr  underlying 
principles,  yet  its  laws  are  its  own,  and  would  never  have  been 
determined  by  the  sciences.  The  truths  of  Logic,  etc.,  are  as 
true  in  one  mind  as  in  two  ;  but  there  can  be  no  communica- 
tion, unless  there  are  a  speaker  and  a  hearer.  Thus,  Logic 
classifies  arguments,  but  Rhetoric  lays  down  laws  that  direct 
the  writer  in  his  choice  of  both  the  class  of  arguments  and  .he 
particular  arguments  of  their  class  that  will  best  work  com 
tion  under  certain  varying  circumstances.  Yet  these  laws  are 
not  laws  of  Form  :  they  are  laws  by  which  Persuasion  may  be 
the  more  easily  accomplished. 

29.  The  question  raised  here  is  not  merely  one  of  name. 
The  point  is  not,  Shall  Rhetoric  have  on  ■  tment  or  two? 
but,  shall  the  office  of  Rhetoric  be  limited  to  the  giving  of  form 
to  thought  already  discovered?  The  rules  of  Rhetoric  m 
indeed,  be  all  included  under  one  head  ;  but,  in  the.; 
either  the  definition  of  Style  must  be  materially  modified,  or 
both  names,  Style  and  Invention,  must  be  abandoned.       By 


THE    DEPARTMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  21 

either  plan  a  valuable  distinction  will  be  lost,  and  nothing  be 
gained  but  an  apparent  simplification,  which,  however,  is,  in 
fact,  a  complication  of  things  that  are  better  kept  distinct. 

30.  The  term  invention,  even  in  its  rhetorical  sense  of finding, 
may,  perhaps,  imply  too  much,  and,  therefore,  be  an  unfortunate 
name  for  the  department;  but  then  it  were  surely  the  part  of 
wisdom  to  choose  a  better  name,  not  to  ignore  the  department. 
The  history  of  the  controversy  makes  it  highly  probable  (to  say 
no  more)  that  a  rather  stupid  misunderstanding  of  the  word  has 
given  undue  plausibility  to  the  arguments  against  such  a  depart- 
ment of  Rhetoric. 

31.  Further,  the  very  method  of  studying  Rhetoric  is  affected 
by  the  decision  of  this  question.  A  complete  Rhetoric  rests  on 
all  the  sciences  nomothetical  to  the  art.1  But  a  Rhetoric  that 
restricts  itself  to  questions  of  Style,  can  not  consistently  do 
this:  it  must  confine  its  attention  to  questions  of  Form,  and 
tend,  accordingly,  to  mere  shovviness  in  composition — to  a 
shallowness  of  thought  that  only  makes  a  beautiful  style  the 
more  hideous — like  a  grinning  skull,  which  can  not  laugh 
because  its  brains  are  out.  Since  Whately,  indeed,  Blair's 
emphasizing  of  /Esthetics  has  been  the  less  dangerous ;  but 
even  Whately  does  not  give  a  complete  view  of  the  department 
of  Invention,  and  Blair's  influence  is  by  no  means  spent.  Be- 
sides, man  seems  as  totally  depraved  in  intellect  as  (in  the  view 
of  some  theologians)  he  is  in  his  moral  nature;  and  he  needs, 
therefore,  to  fight  as  earnestly  against  the  temptation  to  play 
the  fool  as  against  that  to  do  wrong.  Rhetoric  can  ill  afford, 
then,  to  teach  him  respecting  the  communication  of  thought 
a  doctrine  that  even  seems  unduly  to  exalt  the  merely  external 
consideration  of  form. 

32.  The  two  Departments  of  Rhetoric,  then,  are  / 
Invention,  II  Style.  This  order,  too,  is  that,  not  only 
of  their  development,  but  also  of  their  importance  ; 
since  it  is  always  better  to  have  something  to  say,  however 
rudely  one  says  it,  than  merely  to  bring  together  elegant 
expressions  that  mean  notliing.  A  correct  form,  it  is 
true,  renders  worthy  thought  the  more  attractive  ;  but 
mere  excellence  of  form  can  never  recommend  a  compo- 
sition to  an  intelligent  reader.      "  When  you  have  noth- 

1  Appendix,  p.  y}\. 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

ing  to  say,"  runs  the  epigram,  "say  it."  At  the  same 
time,  the  laws  of  Form  are  simpler  than  those  of  thought ; 
and,  for  this  reason,  they  may  properly  be  presented 
first.  Part  I.  of  this  volume  will  therefore  treat  of  Style, 
Part  II.  of  Invention.  A  preparatory  topic,  the  Kinds 
of  Discourse,  will  occupy  a  concluding  chapter  of  this 
Introduction. 

33.  The  full  analysis  and  classification  of  the  kinds  of 
compositions  belongs,  perhaps,  to  Literature  rather  than  to 
Rhetoric ;  but  the  instructor  in  Rhetoric  can  not  assume  that 
his  students  are  conversant  with  it :  he  may  rather  assume  that 
they  know  nothing  about  it;  and,  hence,  since  some  knowl- 
edge of  it  is  essential  for  them,  he  must  supply  at  least  an 
outline.  Nor  can  there  be  any  serious  impropriety  in  his  doing 
so.  At  several  points  in  the  exhibition  of  his  subject,  brief 
summaries  or  classifications  that  properly  belong  to  other 
branches  of  knowledge  must  be  inserted  for  the  information 
of  his  readers.  Of  course,  such  summaries  should  be  given 
only  when  they  are  plainly  necessary,  and  should  be  kept 
within  narrow  bounds ;  but  they  can  not  be  wholly  excluded. 
Indeed,  many  works  of  Rhetoric  contain  nearly  complete 
systems  of  Grammar,  Logic,  etc. ;  while  other  works  make 
these  systems  nearly  the  whole  of  Rhetoric,  carrying  them 
to  an  illogical  extreme. 


THE    KINDS   OF    DISCOURSE.  23 


VI. 

THE   KINDS  OF   DISCOURSE. 

34.   Compositions  may  be  distinguished, — 

1.  With  respect  to  Form,1  as  (a)  Verse,  {b)  Prose  ; 

2.  With  respect  to  Intrinsic  Character,  as  (a)  Ora- 
tory, (£)  Representative  Discourse,  (V)  Romance, 
(d)  Poetry  ; 

3.  With  respect  to  Purfiose,  or  End  in  View,  as  (a) 
Explanatory,  (b)  Argumentative,  (e)  Excitatory, 
and  (d)  Persuasive  Discourse. 

35.  These  divisions,  it  will  be  observed,  are  not  branches  of 
a  single  classification,  but  three  distinct  classifications  each 
with  its  own  principle  of  division  {fundamentum  divisionis). 
The  same  composition,  therefore,  may  be  assigned  a  place 
under  each  classification,  or  even  belong  in  part  to  one,  in  part 
to  another  head  of  the  same  classification.  Thus,  Macaulay's 
England  or  Motley's  Dutch  Republic  is  plainly  of  classes  1  (b), 
2  (b),  and  3  (a)  ;  Webster's  Argument  in  the  Dartmouth  College 
Case,  1  (b),  2  (a),  and  3  (d),  except  in  certain  passages,  in 
which  Mr.  Webster  now  turns  historian,  s{a),  now  argues  his 
points,  3  (b),  and  again  advocates  his  cause  by  an  appeal  to  the 
feelings,  3  {c). 

1.  Compositions  with  Respect  to  Form. 

36.  (a)  Verse  is  distinguished  from  Prose  by- 
having  (1)  Rhythm,  (2)  Metre.  Rhythm  is  the  regular 
recurrence  of  accented  and  unaccented  syllables,  any 
prescribed  combination  of  these  syllables  constituting  a 
Foot.  Metre  is  the  arrangement  of  feet  into  lines  or 
verses,  each  of  which  has  a  given  number  of  feet  of  a 
certain  rhythm.  A  verse,  therefore,  is  any  fixed  number 
of  accented  and  unaccented  syllables.  It  is  generally 
printed  or  written  in  the  middle  of  the  page,  and  with  a 

1 1,  e.,  rhythm  ami  metre.     The  word  is  used  here  in  a  narrow  sense. 


24  INTRODUCTION. 

capital  initial  letter  ;   but  it  would  still  be  a  verse,   no 
tter  how  arranged.     For  example, 

"  Come,  sir, 
I  would  you  would  make  use  of  that  good  wisdom 
Whereof  I  know  you  are  fraught ;  and  put  away 
These  dispositions  which  of  late  transform  you 
From  what  you  rightly  are."  1 

37.  Here  the  foot  is  the  iambus — an  unaccented  followed 
by  an  accented  syllable  ;  and  there  are  five  feet  in  each 
line.  The  rhythm,  therefore,  is  iambic,  the  metre penta- 
meter, and  the  ver  r.     The  exceptional 

.  "Come,  sir,"  and  "you  are  fraught/'  like  the 
further  licenses  of  the  broken  line  (v.  239)  and  the  added, 
"grace-note"  syllables  at  the  end  of  vv.  240  and  242, 
in  no  way  disturb  this  general  description.  The  lines  are 
unquestionably  verses,  •  have  both  rhythm  and 

metre  ;  but  they  would  no  less  be  verses — no  less  have 
both   rhythm  and   metre — were  they  printed,  as  in    the 

irto  editions  of  Shakspere,  in  prose  form  : — 

"  Come,  sir,  I  would  you  would  make  use  of  that  good  wisdom 
whereof  I  know  you  arc  fraught  ;  and  put  away  these  disposi- 
tions which  of  late  transform  you  from  what  voir  rightly  are."2 

3S.  The  precise  intention  of  some  of  the  terms  used  in  \\ 
36,  37  is  not  settled  even  among  technical  writers;  but  there  is 
abundant  authority  for  the  meanings  here  given — so  far  at  least 
as  English  verse  is  concerned — and  the  use  of  the  words  in 
these  significations  is  certainly  convenient.  The  full  discussion 
of  the  subject  hardly  finds  place  in  a  work  limited  to  Prose 
Composition. 

39.  (b)  Prose  has  no  regular  rhythm,  and,  except 
so  far  as  grammatical  structure  or  a  proper  distribution 
of  the  several  thoughts  or  divisions  of  thought  expressed 
may  require,  is  printed  continuously  from  one  margin 
of  the  page  to  the  oth<    . 

1  .    (Lines  by  the  Globe  Edition.) 

2 Sec  the  Cambridge  Edition,  in 


THE    KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE.  25 

40.  But  fine  Prose  has  a  rhythm, — a  rhythm  of  its 
own,  to  be  sure,  irregular,  but  perceptible  to  a  good  ear. 
It  is  thus  described  by  Mrs.  Browning  :' — 

"Then  we  talked — oh,  how  we  talked  !  her  voice,  so  cadenced 
in  the  talking, 
Made  another  singing — of  the  soul !  a  music  without  bars.'''  2 

Melody,  Euphony,  Harmony,"  are  qualities,  not  of  Verse 
only,  but  of  Style  ;  and  a  Prose  that  lacked  them  in  a 
marked  degree  would  be  both  bald  and  harsh.  The 
further  illustration  of  this  truth  belongs  elsewhere  ;  i  but 
a  few  quotations  byway  of  example  will  not  be  improper 
here  : — 

( 1 )  "  After  a  pause,  Charles  rose  to  address  a  few  parting  word  3 
to  his  subjects.  He  stood  with  apparent  difficulty,  and  rested 
his  right  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  prince  of  Orange, — inti- 
mating, by  this  preference  on  so  distinguished  an  occasion,  die 
high  favor  in  which  he  held  the  young  nobleman.  In  the  other 
hand  he  held  a  paper,  containing  some  hints  for  his  discourse, 
and  occasionally  cast  his  eyes  upon  it,  to  refresh  his  memory. 
He  spoke  in  the  French  language.  He  begged  them  to  belii 
that  this,  and  no  other  motive,  induced  him  to  resign  the 
sceptre  which  he  had  so  long  swayed.  They  had  been  to  him 
dutiful  and  loving  subjects  ;  and  such,  he  doubted  not,  they 
would  prove  to  his  successor.  Above  all  things,  he  besought 
them  to  maintain  the  purity  of  the  faith.  If  any  one,  in  these 
licentious  times,  had  admitted  doubts  into  his  bosom,  let  such 
doubts  be  extirpated  at  once.  '  I  know  well,' he  concluded, 
'  that  in  my  long  administration,  I  have  fallen  into  many  errors, 
and  committed  some  wrongs.  But  it  was  from  ignorance; 
and,  if  there  be  any  here  whom  I  have  wronged,  they  will 
believe  that  it  was  not  intended,  and  grant  me  their  forgive- 
ness.' "  5 

1  Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship. 

"Cf.  the  previous  lines  ; — 

"Oh,  to  se  e  or  hear  her  singing  !  scarce  I  know  which  is  divinest— 
For  her  looks  sing,  too — she  rtures  on  tl 

This,  of  course,  is  music  with  bars — the  music  of  verse. 

2  ii  335  (f,  del  low.  '■>  Prescott,  Philip  II..  eh.  i. 


26  INTRODUCTION. 

(2)  "Whether  or  no  Beatrice  possessed  those  terrible  attri- 
butes, that  fatal  breath,  the  affinity  with  those  so  beautiful  and 
deadly  flowers,  which  were  indicated  by  what  Giovanni  had  wit- 
nessed, she  had  at  least  instilled  a  fierce  and  subtle  poison  into 
his  system.  It  was  not  love,  although  her  rich  beauty  was  a 
madness  to  him;  nor  horror,  even  while  he  fancied  her  spirit 
to  be  imbued  with  the  same  baneful  essence  that  seemed  to 
pervade  her  physical  frame  ;  but  a  wild  offspring  of  both  love 
and  horror  that  had  each  parent  in  it,  and  burned  like  one  and 
shivered  like  the  other.  Giovanni  knew  not  what  to  dread  ; 
still  less  did  he  know  what  to  hope  ;  yet  hope  and  dread  kept 
a  continual  warfare  in  his  breast,  alternately  vanquishing  one 
another  and  starting  up  afresh  to  renew  the  contest.  Blessed 
are  all  simple  emotions,  be  they  dark  or  bright !  It  is  the  lurid 
intermixture  of  the  two  that  produces  the  illuminating  blaze  of 
the  infernal  regions."  1 

(3)  "Nature  has  no  kindness,  no  hospitality,  during  a  rain. 
In  the  fiercest  heat  of  sunny  days  she  retains  a  secret  mercy,  and 
welcomes  the  wayfarer  to  shady  nooks  of  the  woods  whither 
the  sun  can  not  penetrate  ;  but  she  provides  no  shelter  against 
her  storms.  It  makes  us  shiver  to  think  of  those  deep,  umbra- 
geous recesses,  those  overshadowing  banks,  where  we  found 
such  enjoyment  during  the  sultry  afternoons.  Not  a  twig  of 
foliage  there  but  would  dash  a  little  shower  into  our  faces. 
Looking  reproachfully  towards  the  impenetrable  sky,— if  sky 
there  be  above  that  dismal  uniformity  of  cloud,— we  are  apt  to 
murmur  against  the  whole  system  of  the  universe,  since  it 
involves  the  extinction  of  so  many  summer  days  in  so  short  a 
life  by  the  hissing  and  spluttering  rain.  In  such  spells  of 
weather,— and  it  is  to  be  supposed  such  weather  came,— Eve's 
bower  in  Paradise  must  have  been  but  a  cheerless  and  aguish 
kind  of  shelter,  nowise  comparable  to  the  old  parsonage,  which 
had  resources  of  its  own  to  beguile  the  week's  imprisonment. 
The  idea  of  sleeping  on  a  couch  of  wet  roses  !  " 2 

41.  Some  writers  use  a  form  of  composition  generally 
called  Metric  Prose.  As  its  name  would  indicate,  it 
is  a  compromise  between  Prose  and  Verse,  having  the 
Prose  features  but  the  Verse  character.  Like  Prose,  it 
is  written  from  margin  to  margin  ;  but  it  adopts  a  per- 

1  Hawthorne,  Musses  from  an  ( >/J  Manse,  I.  p.  1 15.    (  Little  Classics  Edition.) 
-  [d.  lb.  I.  21. 


THE    KINDS   OF    DISCOURSE.  27 

ceptible  rhythm, — though  a  rhythm  commonly  less  reg- 
ular than  that  of  Verse  ;  while  in  some  places  it  admits 
of  being  roughly  marked  off  into  metres.  An  apter 
name  for  it,  perhaps,  would  be  Rhythmic  Prose ;  for  its 
essential  characteristic  is  its  rhythmic  construction,  not 
its  accidentally  being  metrical. 

A  few  examples  may  be  appended  : — 

(1)  "  On  the  back  of  a  huge  wave  rose  for  the  last  time  the 
unfortunate  Alhval.  Stem  on,  as  if  with  strong  men  steering, 
she  rushed  through  the  foam  and  the  white  whirl,  like  a  hearse 
run  away  with  in  snowdrifts.  Then  she  crashed  on  the  stones, 
and  the  raging  sea  swept  her  from  taffrail  to  bowsprit,  rolled  her 
over,  pitched  her  across,  and  broke  her  back  in  two  moments. 
The  shock  rang  through  the  roar  of  billows,  as  if  a  nerve  of  the 
earth  were  thrilling.  Another  mountain-wave  came  marching 
to  the  roll  of  the  tempest-drum.  It  curled  disdainfully  over  the 
side,  like  a  fog  sweeping  over  a  hedge-grow  ;  swoop — it  broke 
the  timbers  away,  as  a  child  strews  the  quills  of  a  daffodil."  * 

(2)  "The  storm  was  now  at  its  height  ;  and  of  more  than  a 
hundred  people  gathered  on  the  crown  of  the  shore,  and  above 
the  reach  of  the  billows,  not  one  durst  stand  upright.  Nearer 
the  water  the  wind  had  less  power,  for  the  wall  of  waves  broke 
the  full  brunt  of  it.  But  there  no  man,  unless  he  were  most 
quick  of  eye  and  foot,  might  stand  without  great  peril.  For 
scarcely  a  single  billow  broke,  but  what,  in  the  first  rebound 
and  toss,  two  churning  hummocks  of  surf  met,  and  flashed  up 
the  strand  like  a  mad  white  horse,  far  in  advance  of  the  rest. 
Then  a  hissing  ensued,  and  a  roll  of  shingle,  and  the  water 
poured  huddling  and  lappeting  back  from  the  chine  itself  had 
crannied. ' '  ' 

(3)  "The  moment  they  got  to  the  kennel,  which  they  did  by 
a  way  of  their  own,  avoiding  all  grooms  and  young  lumbermen, 
fourteen  dogs,  of  different  faces  and  a  dozen  languages,  thun- 
dered, yelled,  and  yelped  at  the  guns,  some  leaping  madly  and 
cracking  their  staples,  -some  sitting  up  and  begging  dearly, 
with  the  muscles  of  their  chest  all  quivering,  some  drawing 
along  on  their  stomachs,  as  if  they  were  thoroughly  callous, 
and  yawning  for  a  bit  of  activity  ;  but  each  in  his  several  way 
entreating  to  be  the  chosen  one,  each  protesting  that  lie  was 

1  R.  D.  Blackmore,  Cradock  Xowell,  eh.  xxxii. 


28  INTRODUCTION. 

truly  the  best  dog  for  the  purpose — whatever  that  might  be — 
and  swearing  stoutly  that  he  would  '  down-charge  '  without  a 
hand  being  lifted,  never  run  in  upon  any  temptation,  never 
bolt  after  a  hare.  All  the  while  Caldo  sat  grimly  apart ;  having 
trust  in  human  nature,  he  knew  that  merit  must  make  its  way, 
and  needed  no  self-assertion.  As  his  master  came  to  him  he 
stood  upon  his  hindlegs  calmly,  balanced  by  the  chainstretch, 
and  bent  Ids  forearms  as  a  mermaid  or  a  kangaroo  does.  Then, 
suddenly,  Cradock  Nowell  dropped  the  butt  of  his  gun  on  his 
boot,  and  said,  with  his  voice  quite  altered, — "  x 

42.  In  these  passages,  the  rhythm  is  detected,  not  so 
much  by  marking  off  the  several  feat  formed  by  the 
words,  as  by  reading  the  paragraphs  aloud  with  the  em- 
phases necessary  to  bring  out  the  sense.  In  the  following 
extracts,  the  rhythm  may  not  only  be  heard  by  the  ear, 
but  even  be  marked  off  with  greater  or  less  regularity. 

(4)  "Go,  go;  you  are  a  counterfeit  cowardly  knave.  Will 
you  mock  at  an  ancient  tradition,  begun  upon  an  honourable 
re  ;pect,  and  worn  as  a  memorable  trophy  of  predeceased 
valour,  and  dare  not  avouch  in  your  deeds  any  of  your  words? 
I  have  seen  you  gleeking  and  galling  at  this  gentleman  twice  or 
thrice.  You  thought,  because  he  could  not  speak  English  in 
the  native  garb,  he  could  not  therefore  handle  an  English 
cudgel  :  you  find  it  otherwise  ;  and  henceforth  let  a  Welsh  cor- 
rection teach  you  a  good  English  condition.     Fare  ye  well!  "  '2 

43.  In  a  fifth  example  the  structure  is  much  more 
verse-like  : — 

(5)  "Thus  says  my  king:  Say  thou  to  Harry  of  England  : 
Though  we  seemed  dead,  we  did  but  sleep  :  advantage  is  a 
better  soldier  than  rashness.  Tell  him  we  could  have  rebuked 
him  at  Harflcur,  but  that  we  thought  not  good  to  bruise  an 
injury  till  it  were  full  ripe  ;  now  we  speak  upon  our  cue,  and 
our  voice  is  imperial  :  England  shall  repent  his  foil}-,  see  his 
weakness,  and  admire  our  sufferance.  Bid  him  therefore  con- 
sider of  his  ransom  ;  which  must  proportion  the  losses  we  have 
borne;  the  subjects  we  have  lost,  the  disgrace  we  have 
digested  ;    which  in  weight  to  re-answer,  his  pettiness  would 

1  R.  D.  Blackmorc,  Cra  ch.  xviii. 

2Shakspere,  Henry  I '.,  V.  1.  73-S4. — The  rhythm  is  in  the  main  anapaestic;  but 
it  is  by  no  means  regular. 


THE    KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE.  29 

bow  under.  For  our  losses,  his  exchequer  is  too  poor  ;  for  the 
effusion  of  our  blood,  the  muster  of  his  kingdom  too  faint  a 
number  ;  and  for  our  disgrace,  his  own  person,  kneeling  at 
our  feet,  but  a  weak  and  worthless  satisfaction.  To  this  acid 
defiance :  and  tell  him,  for  conclusion,  he  hath  betrayed  his 
followers,  whose  condemnation  is  pronounced.  So  far  my 
king  and  master  ;  so  much  my  office."  1 

44.   A  short  step  brings  the  writer  from  prose  like  this 
to  downright  blank  verse  : — 

(6)   "  Thou  dost  thy  office  fairly.     Turn  thee  back, 
And  tell  thy  king  I  do  not  seek  him  now  ; 
But  could  be  willing  to  march  on  to  Calais 
Without  impeachment ;  for,  to  say  the  sooth, 
Though  'tis  no  wisdom  to  confess  so  much 
Unto  an  enemy  of  craft  and  vanta; 
My  people  are  with  sickness  much  enfeebled  ; 
My  numbers  lessened,  and  those  few  I  have 
Almost  no  better  than  so  many  French  ; 
Who  when  they  were  in  health,  I  tell  thee,  herald, 
I  thought  upon  one  pair  of  English  I 
Did  march  three  Frenchmen.     Yet,  forgive  me,  God, 
That  I  do  brag  thus  !     This  your  air  of  France 
Hath  blown  that  vice  in  me  ;  I  must  repent. 
Go  therefore,  tell  thy  master  here  I  am  ; 
My  ransom  is  this  frail  and  worthless  trunk, 
My  army  but  a  weak  and  sickly  guard  ; 
Yet,  God  before,  tell  him  we  will  come  on, 
Though  France  himself  and  such  another  neighbour 
Stand  in  our  way.     There's  for  thy  labour,  Montjoy. 
Go,  bid  thy  master  well  advise  himself: 
If  we  may  p  iss,  we  wi!l  ;  if  we  be  hinder' d, 
We  shall  your  tawny  ground  with  your  red  blood 
Discolour  :  and  so,  Montjoy,  fire  you  well. 
The  sum  of  all  our  answer  is  but  this  : 
We  would  not  seek  a  battle,  as  we  are  ; 
Nor,  a  >  we  are,  we  say  we  will  not  shun  it  : 
So  1   11  y  1  ir  m  ister."  2 

JShal  "  I'.,  III.  vi.  115-1  j.5.— Tl 

in  blank  .  1  .     •  .  '  > 

his  .  dition.) 

:  II.  vi.  14S-175.— A  fuller  discussion  of  rhythm  in  Prose  will  be  found 
in  ^158(2),  (51,  below. 


30  introduction. 

2.  Compositions  with    Respect   to    Intrinsic 

Character. 

45.  («)  Oratory  is  the  personal  address  of  a  speaker 
to  a  hearer,  for  the  purpose  of  producing  upon  the  mind 
of  the  latter  a  certain  effect.  For  example,  Webster's 
Argument  in  the  Dartmouth  College  Case  was  designed 
to  secure  a  decision  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States  that  certain  acts  of  the  Legislature  of  New 
Hampshire  were  "unconstitutional  and  invalid."  To 
this  end,  (1)  it  recites  the  history  of  the  creation  and 
establishment  of  the  corporation  under  a  royal  charter 
to  certain  trustees  ;  (2)  it  describes  the  acts  passed  by 
the  Legislature  ;  (3)  it  shows  that,  if  these  acts  are 
valid,  the  old  corporation  is  abolished,  and  a  new  corpor- 
ation created,  and  that  thereby  the  legal  rights  of  the 
trustees  are  violated  ;  and  (4)  it  contends  that  the  acts 
are  not  valid,  (a)  because  they  are  against  common 
right  and  the  constitution  of  New  Hampshire,  (/5)  because 
they  are  repugnant  to  the  constitution  of  the  United 
States.  Each  of  these  four  points  is  carefully  elabor- 
ated ;  but,  without  going  into  details,  one  can  readily 
see  that  the  purpose  of  the  speaker  throughout  is  to 
impress  upon  the  judges  the  conviction  that  the  acts  in 
question  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  stand.  This  Mr. 
Webster's  conclusion  shows  so  fully,  that  it  may  be 
quoted  at  length  as  a  more  definite  specimen  of  this  sort 
of  composition  : — 

"The  case  before  the  court  is  not  of  ordinary  importance,  nor 
of  every  day  occurrence.  It  affects  not  this  college  only,  but 
every  college,  and  all  the  literary  institutions  of  the  country. 
They  have  flourished  hitherto,  and  have  become  in  a  high  degree 
respectable  and  useful  to  the  community.  They  have  all  a 
common  principle  of  existence,  the  inviolability  of  their  charters. 
It  will  be  a  dangerous,  a  most  dangerous  experiment,  to  hold 
these  institutions  subject  to  the  rise  and  fall  of  popular  parties, 
and  the  fluctuations  of  political  opinions.  If  the  franchise  may 
be  at  any  time  taken  away,  or  impaired,  the  property  also  may 


THE    KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE.  3 1 

be  taken  away,  or  its  use  perverted.  Benefactors  will  have  no 
certainty  of  effecting  the  object  of  their  bounty  ;  and  learned 
men  will  be  deterred  from  devoting  themselves  to  the  service 
of  such  institutions,  from  the  precarious  title  of  their  offices. 
Colleges  and  halls  will  be  deserted  by  all  better  spirits,  and 
become  a  theatre  for  the  contention  of  politics.  Party  and 
faction  will  be  cherished  in  the  places  consecrated  to  piety  and 
learning.  These  consequences  are  neither  remote  nor  possible 
only.  They  are  certain  and  immediate.  *  *  *  It  was  for  many 
and  obvious  reasons  most  anxiously  desired,  that  the  question 
of  the  power  of  the  legislature  over  this  charter  should  have 
been  finally  decided  in  the  state  court.  An  earnest  hope  was 
entertained  that  the  judges  of  that  court  might  have  viewed 
the  case  in  the  light  favorable  to  the  rights  of  the  trustees. 
That  hope  has  failed.  It  is  here,  that  those  rights  are  now  to 
be  maintained,  or  they  are  prostrated  forever.  Omnia  alia 
perfugia  bonorum,  subsidia,  consilia,  au.vilia,  jura  ceciderunt. 
Quern  enim  alium  appellem?  quern  obtester?  quern  implor em? 
Nisi  hoc  loco,  nisi  apud  vos,  nisi  per  vos,judices,  salutem  nos- 
tram,  quae  spe  exigua  extremaque pendet,  tenuerimus ;  nihil  est 
prceterea  quo  confugere  possimus." 

46.  In  another  form — that  given  by  Prof.  Chauncey 
A.  Goodrich  to  Rufus  Choate — this  extract  is  even  more 
oratorical.  Mr.  Choate  quotes  it  in  his  Discourse  Com- 
memorative of  Daniel  Webster,  before  the  Dartmouth 
College  Alumni  Society,  July  27,  1853: — ' 

"The  argument  ended.  Mr.  Webster  stood  for  some  mo- 
ments silent  before  the  Court,  while  every  eye  was  fixed 
intently  upon  him.  At  length,  addressing  the  Chief  Justice, 
Marshall,  he  proceeded  thus  : — 

"  '  This,  sir,  is  my  case  !  It  is  the  case,  not  merely  of  that 
humble  institution,  it  is  the  case  of  every  college  in  our  land. 
It  is  more.  It  is  the  case  of  every  Eleemosynary  Institution 
throughout  our  country — of  all  those  great  charities  founded 
by  the  piety  of  our  ancestors  to  alleviate  human  misery,  and 
scatter  blessings  along  the  pathway  of  life.  It  is  m<  ire.  It  is,  in 
some  sense,  the  case  of  every  man  among  us  who  has  property 

1  The  author's  attention  was  called  to  this  varying  form  of  Webster's  perora- 
tion by  his  friend  and  colleague  Prof.  Francis  A.  Jackson,  who  also  loaned  him 
an  original  copy  of  Choate's  Discourse. 


32  INTRODUCTION. 

of  which  he  may  be  stripped,  for  the  question  is  simply  this  : 
Shall  our  State  Legislatures  be  allowed  to  take  that  which  is 
not  their  own,  to  turn  it  from  its  original  use,  and  apply  it  to 
such  ends  or  purposes  as  they,  in  their  discretion,  shall  see  fit? 

"  'Sir,  you  may  destroy  this  little  Institution  ;  it  is  weak  ;  it 
is  in  your  hands  !  I  know  it  is  one  of  the  lesser  lights  in  the 
literary  horizon  of  our  country.  You  may  put  it  out.  But  if 
you  do  so,  you  must  carry  through  your  work  !  You  must  ex- 
tinguish, one  after  another,  all  those  great  lights  of  science 
which,  for  more  than  a  century,  have  thrown  their  radiance 
over  our  land  ! 

"'It  is,  sir,  as  I  have  said,  a  small  college.  And  yet,  there 
are  those  who  love  it .' 

"  Here  the  feelings  which  he  had  thus  far  succeeded  in  keep- 
ing down,  broke  forth.  His  lips  quivered  ;  his  linn  cheeks 
trembled  with  emotion  ;  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  his 
voice  choked,  and  he  seemed  struggling  to  the  utmost  simply 
to  gain  that  mastery  over  himself  which  might  save  him  from 
an  unmanly  burst  of  feeling.  I  will  not  attempt  to  give  you 
the  few  broken  words  of  tenderness  in  which  he  went  on  to 
speak  of  his  attachment  to  the  college.  The  whole  seemed  to 
be  mingled  throughout  with  the  recollections  of  father,  mother, 
brother,  and  all  the  trials  and  privations  through  which  he  had 
made  his  way  into  life.  Every  one  saw  that  it  was  wholly 
unpremeditated,  a  pressure  on  his  heart,  which  sought  relief  in 
words  and  tears. 

"The  court  room  during  these  two  or  three  minutes  pre- 
sented an  extraordinary  spectacle.  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  with 
his  tall  and  gaunt  figure  bent  over  as  if  to  catch  the  slightest 
whisper,  the  deep  furrows  of  his  cheek  expanded  with  emotion, 
and  eyes  suffused  with  tears ;  Mr.  Justice  Washington  at  his 
side,  with  his  small  and  emaciated  frame  and  countenance  more 
like  marble  than  I  ever  saw  on  any  other  human  being — leaning 
forward  with  an  eager,  troubled  look  ;  and  the  remainder  of 
the  Court,  at  the  two  extremities,  pressing,  as  it  were,  toward 
a  :  i  whale  the  audience  below  were  wrapping  them- 

selves round  in  closer  folds  beneath  the  bench  to  catch  each 
look,  and  every  movement  of  the  speaker's  face.  If  a  painter 
could  give  us  the  scene  on  canvas — those  forms  and  counte- 
nances, and  Daniel  Webster  as  he  then  stood  in  the  midst,  it 
would  be  one  of  the  most  touching  pictures  in  the  history  of 
eloquence.      One  thing  it  taught  me,  that  the  pathetic  depends 


THE    KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE.  33 

not  merely  on  the  words  uttered,  but  still  more  on  the  estimate 
we  put  upon  him  who  utters  them.  There  was  not  one  among 
the  strong-minded  men  of  that  assembly  who  could  think  it 
unmanly  to  weep  when  he  saw  standing  before  him  the  man 
who  had  made  such  an  argument,  melted  into  the  tenderness 
of  a  child. 

"Mr.  Webster  had  now  recovered  his  composure,  and  fixing 
his  keen  eye  on  the  Chief  Justice,  said,  in  that  deep  tone  with 
which  he  sometimes  thrilled  the  heart  of  an  audience  : — 

"  '  Sir,  I  know  not  how  others  may  feel, '  (glancing  at  the  oppo- 
nents of  the  college  before  him,)  'but,  for  myself,  when  I  see 
my  alma  mater  surrounded,  like  Caesar  in  the  Senate  house,  by 
those  who  are  reiterating  stab  upon  stab,  I  would  not,  for  this 
right  hand,  have  her  turn  to  me  and  say,  Et  tu  quoque,  mi  fili! 
And  thou  too,  my  son  !  ' 

"  He  sat  down.  There  was  a  deathlike  stillness  throughout 
the  room  for  some  moments  ;  every  one  seemed  to  be  slowly 
recovering  himself,  and  coming  gradually  back  to  his  ordinary 
range  of  thought  and  feeling." 

47.  The  essential  characteristic  of  the  oration  is  the 
opposition  it  implies  between  speaker  and  hearer, — the 
resistance  made  (or  supposed  to  be  made)  by  the  hearer 
to  the  speaker,  and  which  the  speaker  seeks  to  overcome 
by  exerting  an  influence.  The  moment  the  composition 
drops  this  personal  address  to  a  present  listener,  or  no 
longer  aims  at  producing  its  specific  effect,  it  ceases  to 
be  an  oration,  and  becomes  an  essay1  or  some  other 
form  of  discourse.  The  delivery  is  oral  ;  but  this  is  an 
accident,  not  an  essential  attribute,  of  the  oration. 
An  essay  or  a  poem  does  not  become  an  oration  by 
being  addressed  to  an  audience  ;  nor  does  an  oration 
lose  its  specific  difference  by  being  read  by  the  eye  or 
aloud. 

48.  The  term  oration,  however,  is  often  used  in  a 
narrower  sense,  to  denote  only  "an  elaborate  and  pre- 
pared speech  upon  an  important  subject  treated  in  a  dig- 
nified manner, " — "especially,  a  discourse  having  refer- 

1 1  57.  below. 
3 


34  INTRODUCTION. 

ence  to  some  occasion,  as  a  funeral,  an  anniversary,  a 
celebration,  or  the  like. "  1  In  this  meaning,  it  is  to  be 
"distinguished  from  an  argument  or  plea  delivered  in 
court,  from  a  speech  made  off-hand,  from  a  sermon 
delivered  at  a  religious  service,  from  a  lecture  designed 
to  convey  knowledge,  and  the  like."  l  But  this  signifi- 
cation of  the  term, — which  is,  in  fact,  only  a  specific 
sense  to  which  the  broader  meaning  is  generic, — would 
be  far  too  narrow  for  use  here.  The  same  laws  that  con- 
trol the  oration  in  the  narrower  sense  of  the  word, — so 
far,  at  least,  as  it  is  a  personal  address  designed  to  exert 
an  influence  on  a  hearer, — control,  also,  all  similar 
speeches  ;  and  the  limitation  of  the  term  would,  there- 
fore, be  unscientific  and  unwise. 

49.  The  opposition  between  speaker  and  hearer  implied 
by  the  oration  is  assumed  to  exist,  and  the  orator  must 
address  himself  to  overcome  it,  even  when  both  hearer 
and  speaker  are  fully  agreed.  Otherwise,  the  composi- 
tion at  once  becomes  representative  discourse2  or  some- 
thing else  not  oratory.  For  example,  the  aim  of  a  Chris- 
tian preacher  may  be  to  impress  upon  his  hearers  their 
duty  in  view  of  the  death  or  the  resurrection  of  Christ. 
Every  soul  in  the  church  maybe  of  the  preacher's  mind; 
and  yet,  if  the  sermon  is  not  to  be  a  mere  essay,  it  will 
be  written  and  delivered  as  if  the  assent  of  the  listeners 
were  still  to  be  won.3 

50.  Further,  the  opposition  between  speaker  and 
hearer  may  be  simply  that  of  ignorance  or  indifference, 
the  aim  of  the  orator  being  either  to  enlighten  this  ignor- 
ance or  to  place  before  his  hearers  in  the  most  attractive 
form  facts  or  truths  already  sufficiently  well  known. 
Indeed,  his  aim  may  be  only  to  give  pleasure  by  pre- 

1  Webster's  Dictionary,  1864,  s.  vv.  Harangue  and  Oration. 

2 1  55.  below. 

2 Many  a  good  sermon  is,  indeed,  only  an  essay  or  other  form  of  representa- 
tive discourse  ;  the  occasion  demanding  nothing  more.  But  such  sermons  can 
not  be  classed  ;u;  orations. 


THE    KINDS   OF    DISCOURSE.  35 

senting  thoughts  so  worthy  of  consideration  that  their 
mere  exhibition  will  please.  But,  in  all  these  cases, 
if  the  discourse  is  to  attain  the  rank  of  oratory,  the  effect 
must  be  secured,  not  by  a  mere  exhibition  of  the  facts  or 
truths,  but  by  placing  these  truths  or  facts  in  such  a  per- 
sonal relation  to  the  hearer,  that  they  will  exert  an 
influence  upon  him. 

5 1 .  Akin  to  the  Oration  is  the  Letter,  an  address  to  an 
absent  reader.  It  often,  though  not  commonly,1  has  the 
same  design  as  the  oration,  to  produce  an  effect  by 
exerting  a  personal  influence  ;  and,  in  this  form,  is,  of 
course,  most  nearly  like  the  oration.  For  example, 
Charles  Lamb,  stung  by  Southey's  criticism  of  his  Essays 
of  E/fa,  writes  to  Southey  in  the  vein  of  a  pulpit  orator 
haranguing  his  congregation  : — 

"Sir, — You  have  done  me  an  unfriendly  office,  without  per- 
haps much  considering  what  you  were  doing.  You  have  given 
an  ill  name  to  my  poor  lucubrations.  In  a  recent  paper  on 
Infidelity,  you  usher  in  a  conditional  commendation  of  them 
with  an  exception  :  which,  preceding  the  encomium,  and  taking 
up  nearly  the  same  space  with  it,  must  impress  your  readers 
with  the  notion  that  the  objectionable  parts  in  them  are  at  least 
equal  in  quantity  to  the  pardonable.  The  censure  is  in  fact 
the  criticism  ;  the  praise— a  concession  merely.  Exceptions 
usually  follow,  to  qualify  praise  or  blame.  But  there  stands 
your  reproof,  in  the  very  front  of  your  notice,  in  ugly  characters, 
like  some  bugbear,  to  frighten  all  good  Christians  from  purchas- 
ing. Through  you  I  become  an  object  of  suspicion  to  preceptors 
of  youth  and  fathers  of  families.  'A  book,  which  wants  only  a 
sounder  religious  feeling  to  be  as  delightful  as  it  is  original.' 
With  no  further  explanation,  what  must  your  readers  conjecture 
but  that  my  little  volume  is  some  vehicle  for  heresy  or  infidelity? 
The  quotation,  which  you  honour  me  by  subjoining,  oddly 
enough,  is  of  a  character  which  bespeaks  a  temperament  in  the 
writer  the  very  reverse  of  that  your  reproof  goes  to  insinuate. 
Had  you  been  taxing  me  with  superstition,  the  passage  would 
have  been  pertinent  to  the  censure.     Was  it  worth  your  while 

:l  54.  below. 


36  INTRODUCTION. 

to  go  so  far  out  of  your  way  to  affront  the  feelings  of  an  old 
friend,  and  commit  yourself  by  an  irrelevant  quotation,  for  the 
pleasure  of  reflecting  upon  a  poor  child,  an  exile  at  Genoa  !  "  l 

52.  The  difference  between  a  letter-writer  of  this  sort 
and  an  orator  is  wholly  in  the  fact  that  the  writer  is 
absent  from  the  person  he  addresses,  while  the  orator  is 
present  (as  well  as  personal)  in  his  address.  The  writer, 
however,  though  absent  in  body,  is  present  in  spirit,2  and, 
by  the  exercise  of  even  an  ordinary  imagination,  may 
easily  feel  all  the  incentives  to  oratory  that  are  lent  to  the 
public  speaker  by  the  knowledge  that  what  he  is  writing 
will  be  addressed  to  a  present  audience.  Of  course, 
when  the  orator  relies  upon  the  moment  for  the  lan- 
guage he  will  use,  or  still  more,  when  his  speech  is 
strictly  ' '  off-hand, ' '  his  audience  exerts  upon  him  an 
influence  more  powerful  than  that  which  an  absent  or  a 
prospective  audience  can  exert,  but  still  an  influence  not 
different  from  this. 

53.  Other  examples  of  the  Letter  in  this  sense  of  the  word 
may  be  found  in  St.  Paul's  Epistles, — 1  Corinthians,  ch.  vi.  ; 
Romans,  xiv. ;  Hebrews,  xii.  Verses  18-29  of  this  last-named 
chapter  exhibit  a  lofty  oratorical  eloquence,  even  when  tried 
by  Theremin's  severe  definition  of  this  term.3 

54.  Ordinarily,  however,  the  Letter  is  more  like  a 
conversation  than  it  is  like  a  formal  address,  and  may  lose 
its  oratorical  character  entirely.  The  forms  it  then  takes 
can  best  be  described  in  subsequent  paragraphs.4 

55.  (0)  In  Representative  Discourse  thought  is 
communicated  for  its  own  sake.  The  speaker  or  writer 
appears,  not  as  seeking  to  exert  an  influence  upon  his 

'Letter  Ixxix.,  ist  Paragraph.  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  Moxon  Edition 
Vol.  I.  pp.  208-209. 

2  1  Cor.  v.  3.— St.  Paul  tells  the  Corinthians  that  he  "has  judged  already,  as 
though  he  were  present;"  and  his  declamation  could  not  be  more  real  or 
effective  than  in  the  chapter  cited,  were  the  words  excerpts  from  an  oration 
instead  of  from  a  letter. 

3  Appendix,  p.  336.  *  gg  58  ff,  below. 


THE    KINDS   OF    DISCOURSE.  37 

audience,  but  as  "the  mere  mouthpiece"  of  that  audience 
or  of  his  profession  or  of  some  other  body  of  men  whose 
' '  common  convictions  and  sentiments  "  *  he  expresses. 

56.  Hence,  the  usual  (and  eminently  proper)  we  of  the 
essayist,  the  editor,  and  other  such  writers,  as  opposed  to  the 
equally  proper  (but,  perhaps,  less  usual)  /  of  the  orator. 
The  essayist  uses  I,  only  when  he  speaks  in  his  own  person, 
individually;  the  orator  uses  we  in  two  cases; — (1)  when  he 
is  expressing  truths  that  he  believes  to  be  as  well  known  to 
his  hearers,  and  as  fully  accepted  by  them,  as  they  are  known 
to  himself  and  accepted  by  him  ;  (2)  when,  in  any  other  way, 
he  includes  his  hearers  with  himself  in  a  class  all  members  of 
which  are  equally  affected  or  concerned  by  what  he  is  saying. 
In  pure  discourse  of  either  sort,  however,  if  the  personal  form 
is  used  at  all,  the  distinction  between  the  pronouns  holds 
sharply,  and  should  be  strictly  observed. 

57.  Sub-divisions  of  Representative  Discourse  (which 
may  also  serve  as  examples)  are, — 

(1)  History,  "a  methodical  record  of  the  important 
events  which  concern  a  community  of  men  "  ; '  Biog- 
raphy, a  similar  record  of  the  events  in  the  life  of  one 
man  ;  Travels,  ' '  accounts  of  occurrences  and  observa- 
tions ' '  ~  during  personal  visits  by  the  writer  to  particular 
places  or  localities  ; 

(2)  Scientific  Treatises ;  Essays,  which  are  less  pre- 
tentious efforts  ;  Theses,  treatises  or  essays  intended  to 
demonstrate  or  to  maintain  particular  propositions. 

In  (1),  the  subject  is  always  3.  fact;  in  (2),  it  is  a  truth. 

58.  Oratory  and  Representative  Discourse  are  often 
combined  in  the  same  composition.  For  example, 
Macaulay,  in  his  famous  speech  The  People ' s  Charter, 
often  stops  to  insert  matter  that  is  purely  explanatory, 
and  which  would,  of  course,  be  out  of  place  but  for  its 
value  in  making  the  speaker's  position  clearer,  and  in 
thus  promoting  his  aim,  the  rejecti6n  of  the  petition 
under  discussion.     In  the  following  extract,  the  passages 

1  Day,  pp.  27,  28.  -  Webster,  Dictionat  v,  s.  v. 


38  INTRODUCTION. 

printed  in  italics  are  of  this  explanatory  character,  though 
they  are  woven  closely  with  the  purely  oratorical  parts 
of  the  work  : — 

"  I  am  far  from  wishing  to  throw  any  blame  on  the  ignorant 
crowds  which  have  flocked  to  the  tables  where  this  petition 
was  exhibited.  Nothing  is  more  natural  than  that  the  labour- 
ing- people  should  be  deceived  by  the  arts  of  such  men  as  the 
author  of  this  absurd  and  wicked  composition.  We  ourselves, 
with  all  our  advantages  of  education,  are  often  very  credulous, 
very  impatient,  very  short-sighted,  when  we  are  tried  by  pecun- 
iary distress  or  bodily  pain.  We  often  resort  to  means  of  im- 
mediate relief  which,  as  Reason  tells  us,  if  ive  would  listen  to 
her,  are  certain  to  aggravate  our  sufferings.  Men  of  great 
abilities  and  knowledge  have  ruined  their  estates  and  their  con- 
stitutions in  this  way.  How,  then,  can  we  wonder  that  men 
less  instructed  than  ourselves,  and  tried  by  privations  such  as 
we  have  never  known,  should  be  easily  misled  by  mountebanks 
who  promise  impossibilities  ?  Imagine  a  well  meaning  labor- 
ious mechanic  fondly  attached  to  his  wife  and  children.  Bad 
times  come.  He  sees  the  wife  whom  he  loves  grow  thinner 
and  paler  every  day.  His  little  ones  cry  for  bread  ;  and  he  has 
none  to  give  them.  Then  come  the  professional  agitators,  the 
tempters,  and  tell  him  that  there  is  enough  and  more  than 
enough  for  everybody,  and  that  he  has  too  little  only  because 
landed  gentlemen,  fund-holders,  bankers,  manufacturers,  rail- 
way proprietors,  shopkeepers,  have  too  much.  Is  it  strange 
that  the  poor  man  should  be  deluded,  and  should  eagerly  sign 
such  a  petition  as  this  ?  The  inequality  with  which  wealth  is 
distributed  forces  itself  on  everybody's  notice.  It  is  at  once 
perceived  by  the  eye.  The  reasons  which  irrefragably  prove 
this  inequality  to  be  necessary  to  the  well  being  of  all  classes  are 
?wt  equally  obvious.  Our  honest  workingman  has  not  received 
such  an  education  as  enables  him  to  understand  that  the  utmost 
distress  that  he  has  ever  known  is  prosperity,  when  compared 
with  the  distress  which  he  would  have  to  endure  if  there  were  a 
single  month  of  general  anarchy  and  plunder.  But  you  say,  It 
is  not  the  fault  of  the  labourer  that  he  is  not  well  educated. 
Most  true.  It  is  not  his  fault.  But,  though  he  has  no  share  in 
the  fault,  he  will,  if  you  are  foolish  enough  to  give  him 
supreme  power  in  the  state,  have  a  very  large  share  of  the 
punishment.    You  say  that,  if  the  Government  had  not  culpably 


THE    KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE.  39 

omitted  to  establish  a  good  system  of  public  instruction,  the  peti- 
tioners would  have  been  fit  for  the  elective  franchise.  But  is  that 
a  reason  for  giving  them  the  franchise  when  their  own  petition 
proves  that  they  are  not  fit  for  it,  when  they  give  us  fair  notice 
that,  if  we  let  them  have  it  they  will  use  it  to  our  ruin  and  their 
own  ?  It  is  not  necessary  now  to  inquire  whether,  with  universal 
education,  we  could  safely  have  universal  suffrage  ?  What  we 
are  asked  to  do  is  to  give  universal  suffrage  before  there  is 
universal  education.  Have  I  any  unkind  feeling  towards  these 
poor  people  ?  No  more  than  I  have  to  a  sick  friend  who 
implores  me  to  give  him  a  glass  of  iced  water  which  the  physi- 
cian has  forbidden.  No  more  than  a  humane  collector  in  India 
has  to  those  poor  peasants  who  in  a  season  of  scarcity  crowd 
round  the  granaries  and  beg  with  tears  and  piteous  gestures 
that  the  doors  may  be  opened  and  the  rice  distributed.  I 
would  not  give  the  draught  of  water,  because  I  know  that  it 
would  be  poison.  I  would  not  give  up  the  keys  of  the  granary, 
because  I  know  that,  by  doing  so,  I  should  turn  a  scarcity  into 
a  famine.  And  in  the  same  way  I  would  not  yield  to  the  im- 
portunity of  multitudes  who,  exasperated  by  suffering  and 
blinded  by  ignorance,  demand  with  wild  vehemence  the  liberty 
to  destroy  themselves."  1 

59.  Other  examples  of  combined  Oratory  and  Repre- 
sentative Discourse  may  be  found  in  nearly  any  specimen 
of  forensic  oratory  ; 2  long  passages  by  way  of  explanation 
are  neither  unusual  nor  improper.  Webster's  first  two 
points  in  the  argument  analyzed  above 3  are  both  of  this 
character  ;  and  the  orations  of  any  period  in  the  world's 
history  are  not  infrequently  a  prolific  source  of  informa- 
tion concerning  the  history,  (especially  the  manners  and 
customs)  of  the  people  among  whom  they  were  produced. 

60.  Similarly,  in  the  Letter,  any  form  of  Representative 
Discourse  may  be  joined  with  proper  epistolary  matter. 
Thus,   Mr.   Philip  Gilbert  Hamerton,   in  his  hitellectual 

1  Speeches  of  the  Rt.  Hon.    T.  B.  Macaulay,  AT.  P.    Tauchnitz  Ed.,  I.  pp. 
3I4-3I6. 

2  Oratory  of  the  foricm ;  political  and  deliberative  oratory,  including  that  of 
the  law  courts. 

3§45- 


4-0  INTRODUCTION. 

Life,  a  series  of  letter-essays,  each  one  of  which  was 
addressed  to  a  real  person,  though  it  was  never  actually- 
sent  to  him,  writes,1 — 

"When  I  had  the  pleasure  of  staying  at  your  father's  house, 
you  told  me,  rather  to  my  surprise,  that  it  was  impossible  for 
you  to  go  to  balls  and  dinner-parties  because  you  did  not  possess 
such  a  thing  as  a  dress-coat.  The  reason  struck  me  as  being 
scarcely  a  valid  one,  considering  the  rather  high  scale  of 
expenditure  adopted  in  the  paternal  mansion.  It  seemed  clear 
that  the  eldest  son  of  a  family  which  lived  after  the  liberal 
fashion  of  Yorkshire  country  gentlemen  could  afford  himself  a 
dress-coat  if  he  liked.  Then  I  wondered  whether  you  disliked 
dress-coats  from  a  belief  that  they  were  unbecoming  to  your 
person  ;  but  a  very  little  observation  of  your  character  quite 
satisfactorily  convinced  me  that,  whatever  might  be  your  weak- 
nesses (for  everybody  has  some  weaknesses,)  anxiety  about 
personal  appearance  was  not  one  of  them. 

' '  The  truth  is,  that  you  secretly  enjoy  this  little  piece  of  disobe- 
dience to  custom,  and  all  the  disabilities  which  result  from  it. 
This  little  rebellion  is  connected  with  a  larger  rebellion,  and  it 
is  agreeable  to  you  to  demonstrate  the  unreasonableness  of 
society  by  incurring  a  very  severe  penalty  for  a  very  trifling 
offence.  You  are  always  dressed  decently,  you  offend  against 
no  moral  rule,  you  have  cultivated  your  mind  by  study  and 
reflection,  and  it  rather  pleases  you  to  think  that  a  young 
gentleman  so  well  qualified  for  society  in  everything  of  real 
importance  should  be  excluded  from  it  because  he  has  not 
purchased  a  permission  from  his  tailor. 

'The  penalties  imposed  by  society  for  the  infraction  of  very 
trifling  details  of  custom  are  often,  as  it  seems,  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  the  offence  ;  but  so  are  the  penalties  of  nature.  Only 
three  days  before  the  date  of  this  letter,  an  intimate  friend  of 
mine  was  coming  home  from  a  day's  shooting.  His  nephew,  a 
fine  young  man  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  existence,  was  walking 
ten  paces  in  advance.  A  covey  of  partridges  suddenly  cross 
the  road  ;  my  friend  in  shouldering  his  gun  touches  the  trigger 
just  a  second  too  soon,  and  kills  his  nephew.  Now,  think  of 
the  long  years  of  mental  misery  that  will  be  the  punishment  of 
that  very  trifling  piece  of  carelessness  !     My  poor  friend  has 

1  Letter  to  a   Young-  Gentleman  who  had  Firmly  Resolved  Never  to  Wear 
Anything  but  a  Grey  Coal.     (Am.  Ed.  pp.  193  fT.) 


THE    KINDS   OF   DISCOURSE.  41 

passed,  in  the  space  of  a  single  instant,  from  a  joyous  life  to  a 
life  that  is  permanently  and  irremediably  saddened.  It  is  as  if 
he  had  left  the  summer  sunshine  to  enter  a  gloomy  dungeon 
and  begin  a  perpetual  imprisonment.  And  for  what?  For 
having  touched  a  trigger,  without  evil  intention,  a  little  too 
precipitately.  It  seems  harder  still  for  the  victim,  who  is  sent 
out  of  the  world  in  the  bloom  of  perfect  manhood  because  his 
uncle  was  not  quite  so  cool  as  he  ought  to  have  been.  Again, 
not  far  from  where  I  live,  thirty-five  men  were  killed  last  week 
in  a  coal-pit  from  an  explosion  of  fire-damp.  One  of  their 
number  had  struck  a  lucifer  to  light  his  pipe  ;  for  doing  this  in 
a  place  where  he  ought  not  to  have  done  it,  the  man  suffers  the 
penalty  of  death,  and  thirty-four  others  with  him.  The  fact  is 
simply  that  Nature  will  be  obeyed,  and  makes  no  attempt  to 
proportion  punishments  to  offences ;  indeed,  what  in  our 
human  way  we  call  punishments  are  not  punishments,  but 
simple  consequences.  So  it  is  with  the  great  social  penalties. 
Society  will  be  obeyed ;  if  you  refuse  obedience,  you  must  take 
the  consequences.  Society  has  only  one  law,  and  that  is 
custom.  Even  religion  itself  is  socially  powerful  only  just  so 
far  as  it  has  custom  on  its  side." 

61.  So,  too,  St.  Paul,  addressing  the  Corinthian  Church  on 
the  abuses  they  had  allowed  in  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  (1  Cor.  xi.  17-22,)  turns  aside  from  his  strictly  personal 
address  to  recite  the  manner  of  the  institution  of  that  Supper 
(vv.  23-26),  and  then  returns  to  his  denunciation  of  their  errors 
(vv.  27-34).  In  like  manner,  Hebrews,  ch.  xi.,  is  simply  an 
essay  on  Faith  interjected  between  the  strict  letter-matter  of 
ch.  x.  19-39  anc'  cn-  xii-  In  all  these  cases,  there  is  a  mixture 
of  Oratory  and  Representative  Discourse  ;  and  the  letters  are 
to  be  distinguished,  not  only  from  the  purely  oratorical  class, 
but  also  from  those  to  be  described  in  the  next  paragraph. 

62.  The  most  usual  form  of  Letter  is  that  in  which 
the  whole  work  consists  of  narrative,  description,  etc.,1 
with  but  the  merest  trace,  or  with  no  trace  at  all,  of  a 
personal  relation  on  the  part  of  the  writer  either  to  what 
he  writes  or  to  his  reader.  Of  such  sort  are  many  letters 
between  friends,  (in  which,  however,  the  personal  element 
is  a  chief  charm,  even  when  the  oratorical  element — the 

1 1).  366  ff.  below. 


42  INTRODUCTION. 

seeking  to  exert  an  influence — is  wanting),  many  letters 
of  travel,  and  (especially)  the  "news-letters"  of  the 
periodicals.  One  often  fails  to  find  a  difference  between 
the  last-named  kind  of  letters  and  the  despatches  by 
"Associated  Press." 

63.  (V)  Romance  in  its  widest  acceptation  (and  in  the 
sense  intended  here),  includes  all  narrative  compositions 
the  details  of  which  are  not  historically  true.1  It  is  com- 
monly in  prose  form  ;  though  the  oldest  works  of  the 
kind,  as  well  as  some  modern  examples,  are  in  verse. 
Two  sub-divisions  may  be  noted  ; — (1)  Romance  Proper, 
which  introduces  "the  marvellous  or  the  supernatural,"  2 
surprising  events  usually  befalling  a  hero  or  a  heroine, — 
extravagant  adventures  of  love  and  the  like  ; 3  and  (2) 
the  Novel,  a  story  of  real  life  "  intended  to  exhibit  the 
operations  of  the  passions,  and  particularly  of  love, ' '  * — 
a  work  that  describes  character,  and  minutely  and  subtly 
analyzes  motives  and  results.5 

64.  "When  a  writer  calls  his  work  a  Romance,"  says  Haw- 
thorne,6 "  it  need  hardly  be  observed  that  he  wishes  to  claim  a 
certain  latitude,  both  as  to  its  fashion  and  material,  which  he 
would  not  have  felt  himself  entitled  to  assume  had  he  professed 
to  be  writing  a  novel.  The  latter  form  of  composition  is  pre- 
sumed to  aim  at  a  very  minute  fidelity,  not  merely  to  the 
possible,  but  to  the  probable  and  ordinary  course  of  man's 
experience.  The  former — while,  as  a  work  of  art,  it  must 
rigidly  subject  itself  to  laws,  and  while  it  sins  unpardonably  so 
far  as  it  may  swerve  aside  from  the  truth  of  the  human  heart — 
has  fairly  a  right  to  present  that  truth  under  circumstances,  to  a 
great  extent,  of  the  writer's  own  choosing  or  creation.  If  he 
think  fit,  also,  he  may  so  manage  his  atmospherical  medium  as 

1  But  see  \  67,  below.  2  Baldwin's  English  Literature,  II.  135. 

3 Webster's  Dictionary,  s.  v.  Romance. — Hallam  {Literature  of  Europe, 
Pt.  I.  ch.  ii.  §  59,)  says  that  the  mediaeval  romances  rest  upon  the  three  "  col- 
umns" of"  chivalry,  gallantry,  and  religion."  His  words  not  inaptly  describe 
all  romances  of  this  first  sub-division. 

4Webster,  s.  v.  Novel.  f>Y,2\dL\i\\\,  p.  1S9. 

6  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables,  Preface. 


THE    KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE.  43 

to  bring  out  or  mellow  the  lights  and  deepen  and  enrich  the 
shadows  of  the  picture.  He  will  be  wise,  no  doubt,  to  make  a 
very  moderate  use  of  the  privileges  here  stated,  and,  especially, 
to  mingle  the  marvellous  rather  as  a  slight,  delicate,  and  evan- 
escent flavor,  than  as  any  portion  of  the  actual  substance  of  the 
dish  offered  to  the  public.  He  can  hardly  be  said,  however,  to 
commit  a  literary  crime  even  if  he  disregard  this  caution." 

65.  Examples  of  Romance  and  the  Novel  can  be  given  here 
only  by  name.  Of  Romances,  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia,  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  Ivanhoe,  Charles  Kingsley's  Hypatia,  Moore's 
Lalla  Rookh,  the  Arthurian  Legends,  (constituting,  in  a  modern 
form,  Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the  King)  Scott's  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel,  Byron's  Bride  of  Abydos,  may  be  taken  ; 1  of  Novels, 
many  works  by  Bulwer,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  George  Eliot,  and 
Hawthorne,  with  such  stories  in  verse  as  Chaucer's  Canterbury 
Tales,  Scott's  Rokeby,  Mrs.  Browning's  Lady  Geraldine's 
Courtship,  William  Morris's  Earthly  Paradise,  and  Longfellow's 
Evangeline  and  Miles  Standish. 

66.  But  this  distinction  is  not  always  made.  Both 
terms — Romance  and  the  Novel — as  well  as  a  third  word, 
Fiction,  are  constantly  used  as  synonyms.  Yet  Romance 
is  fairly  treated  as  generic,  since  the  Novel  is  simply  an 
outgrowth  from  the  earlier  Romance  Proper,  and  the 
distinction  between  Romance  Proper  and  the  Novel  is 
inconsiderable,  as  compared  with  the  characteristic 
quality  that  unites  both  in  a  single  class.  Fiction  is 
too  broad  a  term  to  include  only  Romance  and  the 
Novel  ;  for  in  the  same  sense  in  which  these  are 
fictions,  the  Poem,  also  is  fiction,  and  this  last  term 
must  therefore  include  Poetry  as  well  as  Romance  and 
the  Novel. 

67.  In  a  certain  sense,  Romance,  though  not  histor- 
ically true,  is  Truth  itself.  In  the  Novel,  at  least,  (as 
Fielding  says,)  "  everything  is  true  but  the  names  and 
dates  ; "  2  and  even  in  the  Romance  Proper  the  under- 

1  The  Arcadia  and  Lalla  Rookh  are  partly  in  prose,  partly  in  verse ;  Ivanhoe 
and  Hypatia  are  in  prose  ;  the  others  in  verse. 

2  Fielding's  antithesis   is,  happily,  a   less   trustworthy  statement, — "  In  the 
historians'  productions  nothing  is  true  but  the  names  and  dates." 


44  INTRODUCTION. 

lying  allegory  or  moral  is  unquestionably  true.1  The 
story  (or  at  least  its  meaning)  is  real,  though  not  actual : 
it  might  have  occurred,  though,  exactly  as  told,  it  never 
did  occur.2  It  is  the  type  of  numerous  cases,  for  all  of 
which  (in  a  certain  sense)  it  stands.  For  example, 
Dickens's  Nicholas  Nickleby  provoked  one  Yorkshire 
schoolmaster  to  take  legal  advice  upon  the  propriety  of 
suing  Mr.  Dickens  for  libel,  another  to  meditating 
assault  and  battery  upon  the  author,  and  a  third  to  a 
remarkable  confidence  that  he  was  intended,  because  he 
"perfectly  remembered  being  waited  on,  last  January 
twelve  month,  by  two  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  held  him 
in  conversation  while  the  other  took  his  likeness."  Mr. 
Dickens  suggests  ' '  that  these  contentions  may  arise 
from  the  fact  that  Mr.  Squeers  is  the  representative  of  a 
class,  and  not  an  individual. ' '  '  Where  imposture,  igno- 
rance, and  brutal  cupidity,"  continues  Mr.  Dickens, 
"are  the  stock  in  trade  of  a  small  body  of  men,  and 
one  is  described  by  these  characteristics,  all  his  fel- 
lows will  recognize  something  belonging  to  themselves, 
and  each  will  have  a  misgiving  that  the  portrait  is  his 
own."3 

68.  (d)  Of  Poetry  no  universally  accepted  definition 
has  ever  been  secured.  Ingenious  metaphors,  long 
catalogues  of  attributes,  and  not  a  few  definitions  in  the 
ordinary  way,  have  been  offered,  but  all  without  the 
desired  result.  The  following  particulars,  however,  are 
widely  agreed  upon.       (i)    The   essential   character   of 

1  §  64,  above. 

-  YVhately  says,  "Writers  of  fiction  are  allowed  to  assume  any  hypothesis 
they  please,  provided  they  represent  the  personages  of  the  fiction  as  acting, 
and  the  events  as  resulting,  in  the  sairn:  manner  as  might  have  been  expected, 
supposing  the  assumed  circumstances  to  have  been  real  [actual].  And,  hence, 
Aristotle  establishes  his  paradoxical  maxim,  that  impossibilities  which  appear 
probable,  are  to  be  preferred  to  possibilities  which  appear  improbable." — Bk. 
I.  ch.  ii.  i  2.  (condensed.) 

3  Preface  to  the  Household  Edition,  p.  ix. 


THE    KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE.  45 

Poetry  is  in  its  matter,  not  in  its  form  ;x  and,  hence,  the 
proper  antithesis  to  Poetry  is  not  Prose,  but  Oratory  and 
Representative  Discourse.2  A  true  poem  may  take  the 
form  of  prose;  and  the  correct  form  of  verse  has  varied 
in  different  lands  and  different  ages.3  (2)  The  thought 
in  Poetry  is  (a)  ideal,  (/?):  emotional  ;  that  is,  it  is 
addressed  to  the  imagination  and  the  feelings.  Yet  even 
these  criteria  often  leave  the  student  perplexed.  The 
question  whether  a  certain  composition  is  or  is  not  truly 
a  poem,  frequently  divides  the  critics  ;  and  in  many  cases 
the  poet  unquestionably  becomes  novelist,  instructor, 
preacher,  writing  in  the  form  of  verse,  only  because  he 
is  thereby  more  apt  to  secure  a  patient  hearing. 

69.  The  following  will  serve  as  examples  of  the  many 
definitions  of  Poetry.  "Poetry  is  simple,  sensuous,  pas- 
sionate."4 "  Poetry  is  'the  stuff  of  which  our  life  is  made.'  "5 
"Poetry  is  the  protest  of  genius  against  the  unreality  of 
actual  life."6  "The  creation  of  new  beauty,  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  real  by  the  ideal,  in  '  words  that  move  in  metri- 
cal array.'"7     "Poetry  is   a   Fine  Art,   operating  by  means 

1 "  Poetry  is  not  the  proper  antithesis  to  prose,  but  to  science."— Coleridge, 
Lit.  Remains,  p.  19  (N.  Y.,  1853).  Bayard  Taylor,  on  the  other  hand,  valiantly 
contends  (and  cites  weighty  authority)  for  the  opposite  opinion.  "Poetry," 
he  says,  "maybe  distinguished  from  Prose  by  the  single  circumstance,  that 
it  is  the  utterance  of  whatever  in  man  cannot  be  perfectly  uttered  in  any  other 
than  a  rhythmical  form."     (Pa/ist,  I.,  p.  v.) 

2  For  the  place  of  Romance,  in  relation  to  Poetry,  and  for  a  use  of  the  term 
Prose  in  a  sense  to  which  Poetry  is  antithetical,  see  §  73,  below. 

3For  example,  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia,  usually  classified  as  a  romance, 
is,  even  in  places  that  have  the  prose  form,  a  sustained  poem.  (C  ■".  Tom  Moore's 
Lalla  Rookh.)  So  the  Psalms,  the  Prophets,  and  others  of  the  sacred  books 
have  lost  nothing  of  their  poetical  character  by  translation  into  a  prose  form. 
As  to  the  correct  form  of  verse,  the  Greeks  and  Romans  found  it  in  quantity ; 
the  Hebrews,  in  a  very  artificial  system  (described  in  The  Sunday  Magazine, 
Vol.  III.  n.s.);  the  Anglo-Saxons,  in  alliteration  ;  the  modern  English  and 
other  nations  in  rhythm  and  metre,  with  or  without  rhyme. 

4Milton,  approved  by  Coleridge,  Lit.  Remains,  p.  21. 

6Hazlitt,  English  forts,  p.  3. 

6E.  P.  Whipple,  English  Parts  of  tin-  Nineteenth  Century  (In  Essays  and 
Reviews,  I.  300.) 

7  Quoted  by  Whipple,  in  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America.  (Essays  and  Re- 
views, I.  32.) 


46  INTRODUCTION. 

of  thought  conveyed  in  language."1  "  Poetry  is  that  kind  of 
discourse  in  which  the  idea  is  expressed  for  the  sake  of  the 
form.  It  is  one  of  the  arts  of  Free  Beauty."2  "  Poetry  is  the 
spontaneous  outburst  of  the  nobler  feelings  of  the  soul.  It 
appeals  mainly  to  our  imaginative  faculties  and  to  our  sense  of 
the  beautiful,  the  true,  the  sublime.  In  its  aim  and  tendency, 
it  is  a  fine  art,  entertaining  and  teaching  us  by  awakening  our 
minds  into  sympathy  with  the  higher  and  diviner  side  of 
things. " 3  "  Poetry  may  be  defined  as  that  division  of  literature 
which  addresses  itself  to  the  imagination  and  the  passions,  and 
whose  primary  object  is  to  please."4  "Modes  of  expressing 
thought  and  feeling  which  are  suitable  to  the  imagination  when 
excited  or  elevated,  and  characterized  usually  by  a  measured 
form  of  one  sort  or  another.  Imaginative  composition,  whether 
in  prose  or  verse."  5 

70.  Poetry  has  been  variously  sub-divided  into  classes. 
The  following  arrangement  will  perhaps  prove  most 
useful  to  the  student  : — 6 

(1)  Lyric  Poetry,  including  the  Song,  the  Ode,  the 
Elegy,  the  Somiet,  and  "the  simple  or  nondescript 
Lyric."  All  Lyrics  express  "intense  feeling,  passion, 
emotion,  or  sentiment, "  and  are  usually  short  and  con- 
centrated. In  form,  they  "deviate  farthest  from  prose." 
The  Song  explains  itself.  The  Ode,  though  originally 
intended  to  be  sung,  is  not,  in  its  English  specimens, 
usually  so  intended.  The  Elegy  is  "a  mournful  or 
plaintive  poem."5  The  Sonnet  expresses  a  single 
thought  or  "phrase  of  feeling,"  must  always  be  con- 
tained in  fourteen  lines,  and  must  have  its  rhymes 
arranged  according  to  a  fixed  rule.  It  has  two  parts, — 
the  Octave,  two  stanzas  of  four  lines  each,  and  the  Seslette, 
one  stanza  of  six  lines  ;  but  the  rule  for  its  rhymes  has 
varied  in  all  literature.     The  (so-called)  perfect  Sonnet 

!Bain,  Rhetoric,  p.  257.     (Am.  Ed.)  *H.  N.  Day,  §  26. 

3 Baldwin,  English  Literature ,  Vol.  I.,  p.  4.  4ld.  ib.  I.,  p.  8. 

5  Webster's  Dictionary  (1864),  s.  v. 
"Substantially  borrowed  from  Bain'  §§  130  ff. 


THE    KINDS   OF    DISCOURSE.  47 

has  four  rhymes,  arranged  thus, — 1,  4,  5,  8  +  2,  3,  6, 
7+9,  11,13+10,  12,  14  j1  but  it  would  be  most  unjust 
to  condemn  as  imperfect  many  sonnets  that  do  not  obey 
this  rule  ;  while  still  another  form,  which  comprises  three 
stanzas  of  four  lines  each  and  a  concluding  couplet,  has 
no  little  or  unworthy  authority. 

(2)  Epic  Poetry,  or  narratives  containing  "plot  or 
story,  scenery,  characters, ' '  and  many  other  peculiarities 
of  History  or  the  Novel.  "The  author  appears  in  his 
own  person,  lays  the  scenes,  introduces  the  actors,  and 
narrates  the  events. ' '  The  Epic  is  necessarily  long,  and 
allows  many  a  digression  or  other  departure  from  the 
direct  line  of  the  story.  Its  chief  divisions  are  the  Great 
Epic,  into  which  supernatural  agents  are  admitted  ;  the 
Romance ;  the  Ballad,  a  short  and  simple  poem  in  which 
incidents  succeed  each  other  rapidly  ;  and  the  Pastoral 
or  Idyll,  "distinguished  by  the  prominence  of  poetic 
description,"  whether  "  of  external  nature  or  of  man- 
ners." Originally  affecting  to  be  written  by  shepherds 
or  to  be  concerned  with  their  lives  and  manners  and 
customs,  this  class  of  poems  received  the  name  pastoral. 
Virgil's  name,  Eclogues,  and  Theocritus' s,  Idylls,  have 
both  survived,  but  often  name  verses  little  concerned 
with  pastoral  matters. 

(3)  Dramatic  Poetry,  intended  for  acting  on  the 
stage,  and,  hence,  cast  in  the  form  of  dialogue.  The 
author  nowhere  appears  in  his  own  person,  the  whole 
story  being  told  by  the  actors  (the  dramatis  personcs). 
Dramas  are  (1)  Tragedies,  in  which  the  emotions  to  be 
aroused  are  chiefly  Pity  and  Fear  ;  (2)  Comedies,  in 
which  the  appeal  is  to  the  sense  of  the  Ludicrous. 

71.  Numerous  other  specifying  terms  applied  to  Poetry,  either 
explain  themselves,  or  can  easily  be  found  in  the  dictionaries. 

72.  Examples  of  these  several  divisions  of  Poetry  can  not,  of 
course,  be  quoted  at  length.     Well  known  Lyrics  (in  the  order 

1  These  figures  indicate  lines. 


48  INTRODUCTION. 

defined  above)  are  Burns's  Scots,  wha  hce,  the  Dies  Ircz, 
Milton's  Hymn  on  the  Nativity,  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam, 
Shakspere's,  Wordsworth's,  Mrs.  Browning's  Sotmets,  Burns's 
Mountain  Daisy,  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  Dante's  Divine 
Comedy,  the  Original  Ballad  of  Chevy  Chase,  Tennyson's  Idylls 
of  the  King ;  and  Shakspere's  Lear,  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  Comedy 
of  Errors  and  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

73.  By  some  writers,1  the  division  of  compositions 
with  respect  to  Intrinsic  Character  is  triple,  into  Prose, 
Romance,  and  Poetry,  instead  of  quadruple,  as  above.2 
The  term  Prose  has  then,  of  course,  no  reference  to 
the  form    of  the   composition,   and  is  opposed,  not  to 

Verse,  but  to  Romance  and  Poetry.  In  brief,  when  so 
used,  it  unites  the  first  two  sub-divisions  of  Class  2,  and 
itself  requires  separation  into  those  sub-divisions.  The 
use  of  the  term  in  this  sense  is  convenient,  though  it  may 
sometimes  be  ambiguous. 

74.  Romance  and  Poetry  differ  from  Oratory  and 
Representative  Discourse,  (that  is,  from  Prose,  as  just 
defined, )  rather  in  the  kind  of  thought  expressed  than  in 
the  mode  of  expressing  it.  Both  address  the  imagination 
and  the  feelings  ;  both  are  designed  to  give  pleasure 
rather  than  to  convey  instruction.  But  here  their 
necessary  likeness  ends.  The  Romance  must  tell  a  story  ; 
the  Poem  may  do  this,  but  need  not.  The  Romance 
generally  takes  the  prose  form  ;  the  Poem  is  generally  in 
verse.  In  the  Romance,  as  in  the  Drama,  (which  is,  in 
fact,  little  more  than  a  romance  wholly  in  dialogue,) 
the  author  stays  behind  the  scenes  ;  the  characters  of 
the  story  or  the  actors  representing  them  (the  dramatis 
personal)  appearing  in  their  own  persons  and  speaking 

1  Notably  by  Minto, — Manual  of  English  Prose  Literature,  Preface.  Mr. 
Minto adopts  " a  division  suggested  by  the  late  Professor  George  Moir,  in  his 
treatises  on  Poetry,  Romance,  and  Rhetoric,"  originally  contributed  to  the 
Eighth  Edition  of  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica.  So,  Prof.  Baldwin  speaks  of 
"matter  of  fact  prose,"  as  opposed  to  "  prose-fiction  or  story-telling  prose." 

2 1  34,  above. 


THE    KINDS   OF    DISCOURSE.  49 

with  their  own  lips.  In  the  Romance,  the  author  now  and 
then  comes  forward  to  make  a  critical  or  other  observa- 
tion on  a  character  or  an  event  of  the  story,  or  even  (by 
way  of  change)  to  take  the  narrative  out  of  his  char- 
acters' mouths  and  carry  it  on  ;  but  he  soon  slips  out 
again,  and  the  dramatic  form  is  resumed.  The  Poem 
(except  the  Drama)  has  not  this  character.  The  author 
is  himself  present :  he  may,  indeed,  harangue  his  readers 
like  an  orator  ;  though  he  may  also  be  only  an  essayist 
or  a  narrator.  In  this,  perhaps,  is  the  essential  differ- 
ence between  Romance  and  Poetry.  The  former  is 
dramatic ;  the  latter  is  not.  The  essential  difference 
between  the  Romance  and  the  Poem,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  Prose  (as  last  defined1),  on  the  other,  has  been  thus 
expressed  by  Minto  : — "Romance  has  a  closer  affinity 
with  Poetry  than  with  Prose  :  it  is  cousin  to  Prose,  but 
sister  to  Poetry  ;  it  has  the  Prose  features,  but  the 
Poetical  spirit." 

3.  Compositions  with  Respect  to  Purpose,  or 
End  in  View. 

75.  The  four  classes  into  which  compositions  are 
divided  with  respect  to  Purpose,  or  End  in  View,  are,  in 
fact,  four  modes  of  discussion  applicable  to  any  com- 
position, no  matter  what  its  form  or  intrinsic  character. 
Hence,  the  detailed  consideration  of  this  branch  of  the 
subject  belongs  under  the  head  of  Invention.2 

1 1  73i  above.  2  Part  Second,  §§  341  ff. 


PART     FIRST. 


STYLE. 


DEFINITIONS. 

76.  Style  is  the  Form  of  Discourse  ; — the  Form 
of  Thought  Expressed  in  Language}  Thus,  the  fol- 
lowing versions  of  a  familiar  passage  of  Scripture  all 
express  the  same  or  nearly  the  same  thought  ;  yet  each 
has  a  form  in  some  respects  its  own  ; — 

(1)  "Then  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  written, 
Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory.  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting; 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  The  sting  of  death  is  sin  ;  and 
the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law."  2 

(2)  "Then  shall  come  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  written, 
Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory.  O  death,  where  is  thy  vic- 
tory? O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  The  sting  of  death  is  sin ; 
and  the  power  of  sin  is  the  law."  3 

(3)  "Then  will  be  brought  to  pass  that  which  is  written: 
'Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory.'  'Where,  O  death  is  thy 
sting?  Where,  O  death,  is  thy  victory?'  The  sting  of  death 
is  sin  ;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  Law."  * 

The  special  form  of  each  version  constitutes  its  Style ; 
and  the  differences  of  form  between  the  versions  are 
differences  of  Style.5  The  province  of  this  department 
of  Rhetoric  is  to  set  forth  and  illustrate  the  several  par- 
ticulars by  which  the  form  of  discourse  is  characterized. 

*g  17,  above.  2  Version  of  161 1.  3  Revision  of  1881. 

4George  R.  Noyes,  The  New  Testament  Translated  from  the  Greek  Text  0/ 
Teschendorf. 

5 Another  reading,  "suggested  by  Dr.  Robinson,"  and  cited  for  this  work  by 
Roswell  Smith,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  is,  "O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  Where, 
O  death,  thy  sting  ?  " — The  differences  are  in  some  particulars  due  to  variations 
in  the  Greek  text. 

50 


DEFINITIONS.  51 

76  a.  Hence,  the  study  of  Style  is  the  study  either  of  the 
Qualities  of  Thought  as  expressed  in  Speech  or  of  the  Proper- 
ties of  Language  as  expressing  Thought.  The  two  phrases  are, 
in  fact,  identical  in  meaning.  Thought  and  Speech,  no  matter 
how  they  may  be  conceived,  are  inseparable.  Each  implies 
the  other  :  neither  is  possible  without  the  other.  Thought,  of 
course,  is  of  primary  importance ;  but  the  task  were  idle  to 
quibble  upon  the  words  in  defining  Style.  The  composition 
necessarily  takes  a  body;  and  this  body  is  Language.  As 
necessarily,  the  language  used  expresses  the  matter  or  substance 
of  the  composition  ;  and  this  matter  or  substance  is  Thought. 
The  properties  of  language,  therefore,  are  the  correlatives  of 
the  qualities  of  thought ;  and,  the  student  once  understanding 
that  what  he  deals  with  is  Thought  Expressed  in  Language,  and 
not  mere  Words,  time  is  simply  wasted  by  overmuch  discussion 
of  the  relations  of  thought  and  speech,  or  of  the  question  whether 
this  or  that  is  more  particularly  referred  to  in  the  word  Style. 

77.   Style  may  be  distinguished  as — 

(A)  Diction,  or  mere  Expression, — the  form  of  dis- 
course with  respect  to  the  grammatical  properties  of 
language; 

(B)  Phraseology,  or  Mechanical  Structure,  the  form 
of  discourse  with  respect  to  the  mechanical  properties  of 
language; — for  example,  the  order  of  words  in  a  sentence, 
emphasis,  modes  of  connecting  words  and  sentences,  etc. 

(C)  Style  Proper,  ' '  the  niceties,  the  elegancies,  the 
peculiarities,  and  the  beauties  of  composition," — the 
form  of  discourse  with  respect  to  the  subtler  properties 
of  language.1 

These  distinctions  are  not  sub-divisions  of  Style,  but 
rather  particulars  in  which,  or  points  of  view  from 
which,  the  form  of  a  composition  may  be  examined  and 
criticized.     Thus,  in  the  passage, — 

"Enter  ye  in  by  the  narrow  gate  :  for  wide  is  the  gate,  and 
broad  is  the  way,  that  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  many  be  they 
that  enter  in  thereby.  For  narrow  is  the  gate,  and  straitened 
the  way,  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  be  they  that  find  it," — a 

IJS306,  below.  2  Revised  Version  of  Matt.  vii.  13,  14. 


52  STYLE. 

exceptions  might  be  taken  to  ye,  leadeth  and  be  as  out  of 
present  use,  to  by  as  over-precise  for  at,  to  straitened  as 
having  a  sense  not  common  in  connection  with  roads  or 
ways,  to  thereby  as  old-fashioned  and  formal,  to  be  they 
as  an  unnecessary  inversion,1  and  to  the  whole  passage 
as  artificial  in  structure  and  lacking  in  clearness  and 
force.  The  first  four  exceptions  are  points  of  Diction, 
the  fifth  a  point  of  Phraseology,  and  the  sixth  a  point  of 
Style  Proper.2 

78.  The  mechanical  properties  of  language  have  been 
aptly  named  the  Elements  of  Style;3  the  subtler  proper- 
ties are  commonly  spoken  of  as  the  Qualities  of  Style; 
and  correctness  in  Diction  is  called  Grammatical  Purity. 
Hence,  three  sub-divisions  of  Part  First, — (A)  Gramma- 
tical Purity,  (B)  The  Elements  of  Style,  (C)  The 
(Dualities  of  Style. 

1  Cf.  the  version  of  161 1,  which  uses  the  expletive  there. 

2  The  older  version  naturally  has  the  archaisms  mentioned,  but  it  has  none  of 
the  other  faults  specified.  The  Revisers  of  18S1  may  have  Englished  the  Greek 
Testament,  but  have  they  not  un-Englished  the  Testament  of  1611? 

3Minto,  Manual,  p.  1. 


ITS   IMPORTANCE.  53 


(A)    GRAMMATICAL   PURITY. 


ITS  IMPORTANCE. 

79.  Grammatical  Purity  has  been  aptly  compared 
to  correctness  of  drawing  in  Painting.  Not  only  is  it  a 
pre-requisite  to  success;1  it  often  of  itself  constitutes 
success.  The  chief  end  of  all  rational  discourse  is  to  be 
understood;  and  nothing  contributes  more  largely  to  this 
end  than  correct  diction.  Even  the  man  whose  own 
practice  is  in  this  respect  faulty,  both  understands  correct 
language  and  appreciates  its  use  by  others.  The  vulgar 
or  provincial  speaker  who  not  only  can  not  understand 
but  condemns  as  "bad  English"  the  vulgar  or  provin- 
cial speech  of  his  neighbor,  both  understands  and 
applauds  the  ' '  good  English  ' '  of  the  cultivated  orator. 
"  The  common  people  like  to  be  addressed  in  sound  old 
English  which  has  the  centuries  behind  it.  .  .  .  Marines 
do  not  like  to  be  preached  to  in  the  dialect  of  the  fore- 
castle. When  one  preacher  of  distinction  .  .  .  en- 
deavored to  preach  thus  on  a  man-of-war  in  Boston 
harbor,  his  hearers  said,  when  his  back  was  turned,  that 
'there  were  two  things  which  he  did  not  understand, — 
religion  and  navigation. ' 2  A  rabble  in  the  street  will 
often  hoot  if  they  are  addressed  in  bad  grammar. 
Patrick  Henry  thought  to  win  the  favor  of  the  back- 
woodsmen  of    Virginia    by   imitating    their    colloquial 

'"The    beginning  of  Style,"   says   Aristotle,   "is  correctness  in    diction" 

-  But  compare  :  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Boatswain  Smith  ?  He  is  a  preacher 
to  sailors  in  London;  himself  a  sailor,  and  a  man  of  great  eloquence  and 
strange,  quaint  power.  While  he  does  not  stud  his  discourses  with  sea-phrases, 
neither  does  lie  avoid  them,  and  when  he  introduces  them  he  does  so  with  great 
effect.  Sailors  have  contempt  for  a  landlubber's  preaching.  But  Boatswain 
Smith  takes  them  on  a  true  tack."— W.  B.  Hodgson,  in  a  letter,  an.  1843. 


54  STYLE. 

dialect  .  .  .  But  his  hearers,  backwoodsmen  though 
they  were,  knew  better  than  that ;  and  they  knew  that  a 
statesman  of  the  Old  Dominion  ought  to  speak  good 
English.  They  were  his  severest  critics."1  Besides, 
correct  language  has  a  beauty  of  its  own,  and  in  many 
cases  lends  a  charm  to  work  not  otherwise  noteworthy. 
On  the  other  hand,  even  a  slip  in  grammar  is  a  blot ; 
while  errors  that  are  plainly  "constitutional'" — that 
spring  from  a  fundamental  ignorance — are  fatal  to  the 
writer.  "  It  is  not  so  much  a  merit  to  know  English  as 
it  is  a  shame  not  to  know  it ;  and  I  look  upon  this 
knowledge  as  essential  for  an  Englishman,  and  not 
merely  for  a  fine  speaker."2  Hence,  at  whatever 
expense  of  time  and  labor,  the  student  of  Rhetoric  must 
perfect  himself  in  Grammar ;  just  as  the  student  of  Art 
must  give  himself  without  reserve  to  Anatomy  and  other 
studies  of  Outline. 

1  Austin  Phelps,  English  Style  in  Public  Discourse,  pp.  17,  18. 

2  Adapted  from  Cicero  by  Abbott  and  Seeley,  English  Lessons  for  English 
People,  Title-page. 


THE   STANDARD    OF   PURITY.  55 

II. 

THE  STANDARD  OF  PURITY. 

80.  What,  then,  constitutes  Grammatical  Purity? 
How  shall  a  writer  know  whether  his  work  is  correct  in 
Diction,  or  not  ?  Plainly,  there  must  be  set  up  a  Stand- 
ard of  Purity,  to  which  reference  can  readily  be  made, 
and  by  which  the  correctness  of  work  can  easily  be 
gauged.  If  such  a  standard  exists,  and  access  to  it  is 
quite  unimpeded,  little  or  no  excuse  can  remain  for  viola- 
tions of  Purity;  while,  if  there  is  a  doubt  what  the 
standard  truly  is,  or  if  the  standard  is  inaccessible, 
violations  of  Purity  will  be  inevitable,  and  can  not  be  so 
severely  censured. 

81.  It  is  this  truth,  perhaps,  that  best  explains  the  continual 
violations  of  Purity  by  writers  as  well  as  speakers  of  English. 
The  standard  usually  insisted  upon  is  Good  Use — a  standard 
to  which  reference  is  difficult,  and  which  is  not  a  single,  unfluc- 
tuating measure,  but  a  cumulate  authority,  the  binding  force  of 
which  may  be  loosened  by  any  writer,  however  heretical  in  this 
respect,  who  may  be  lucky  enough  to  secure  a  wide  reading. 
Of  course,  life  in  language,  as  in  all  other  organisms,  implies  its 
putting  forth  new  growths,  sloughing  off  dead  members, 
changing  by  many  processes ;  of  course,  too,  in  the  operation 
of  this  growth  and  decay,  varying  forms  of  many  sorts  will  come 
into  existence,  so  that  a  rigid  conformity  to  any  standard  will 
be  impossible  ;  but  it  does  not  follow  hence  that,  because  there 
must  be  variation,  there  need  be  chaos, — that,  because  Liberty 
in  speaking  and  writing  is  possible  and  desirable,  there  must  be 
License. 

82.  Two  opinions  are  held  by  rhetoricians  as  to  what 
the  Standard  of  Purity  is.  One  side  contends  that 
it  is  Usage,  or  Good  Use,  the  custom  of  the  best  writers 
and  speakers ;  the  other  side,  that,  while  the  Standard 
of  Purity  may  be  infe?-rcd  from  Good  Use,  yet,  ultimately, 
it  lies  in  the  Laws  of  Thought  and  Speech,   the 


56  STYLE. 

principles  to  which  Language  conforms  as  one  of  man's 
faculties.  The  two  views,  it  will  be  seen,  are  radically 
different.  The  former  puts  Usage  forward  as  the  only 
and  absolute  Law  of  Speech  :  whatever  is  (in  worthy 
speech  and  writing),  it  declares,  is  right.1  The  latter 
holds  that  Usage  is  an  exponent  of  the  standard,  but  not 
the  standard  itself.  The  theories  differ  as  would  two 
theories  of  Morals,  one  of  which  held  that  the  standard 
of  right  and  wrong  was  the  character  and  mode  of  life 
of  good  men;  the  other,  that,  while  correct  moral  prin- 
ciples can  undoubtedly  be  learned  from  examples  of  good 
character  and  right  living,  yet  there  are  absolute  laws  of 
right  and  wrong,  apart  from  any  or  all  illustrations  of 
them.  The  former  doctrine  has  certainly  the  weight  of 
authority  both  ancient  and  modern;  but  the  latter  would 
seem  the  more  reasonable. 

83.  Horace  first  stated  the  doctrine  of  Good  Use, — "  Use  is 
the  Law  and  Rule  of  Speech."  Quintilian  confirmed  Horace, — 
"Custom  is  the  surest  guide  \magistra\  in  speaking:  our 
language,  like  our  money,  must  bear  the  public  stamp." 
Campbell  says,  "  Every  tongue  whatever  is  founded  in  use  or 
custom, 

'  Whose  arbitrary  sway 
Words  and  the  forms  of  language  must  obey.'  " 

And  most  other  modern  critics  have  accepted  the  rule  unques- 
tioningly.  Moreover,  were  the  statement  intended  to  mean  only 
that  Use  is  proximately  the  standard  of  Purity,  that  it  sets  forth 
"the  law  and  rule  of  speech  "  in  a  form  convenient  for  study, — 
no  one  could  cavil  at  it. 

84.  But  such  is  plainly  not  the  intention  of  the  dictum  ;  '-'  and 
a  few  writers,  foremost  among  whom  is  Prof.  H.  N.  Day,3  have, 
therefore,  called  the  doctrine  in  question.  They  teach  that, 
however  accurately  Usage  may  express  "the  law  and  rule  of 
speech,"  it  is  not  that  law;  that  ultimate  principles,  broad 
general  truths,  give  law  to  language  ;  and,  therefore,  that  the 

1  "Authority  is  everything  in  language;  it  is  the  want  of  it  alone  that  con- 
stitutes" grammatical  impurity. — Campbell,  II.  li. 

2^94,  below.  3  The  Ail  of  Discourse^  '/i,  246,  284. 


THE   STANDARD    OF    PURITY.  57 

Standard  of  Purity  lies  in  these  truths.  It  is  noticeable,  too, 
that  the  popular  feeling, — the  instinctive  judgment  of  all  men, 
perhaps,  before  they  acquire  the  belief  that  diction  is  con- 
trolled by  Usage,— the  popular  feeling  is  that,  whatever  this  or 
that  great  writer  may  do,  whatever  may  be  the  passing  fashion 
of  speech  even  among  the  people  themselves,  nevertheless  law, 
and  not  precedent,  ultimately  settles  all  questions  of  Grammar. 
The  grounds  for  preferring  this  latter  view  of  the  question  may 
be  briefly  stated  as  follows. 

85.  First,  since  the  rules  and  the  theory  of  an  art  are  only 
systematic  statements  of  principles  that  must  have  been  active 
in  nature  before  any  practical  art-work  could  have  been  done, 
— that  is,  before  a  usage  of  any  kind,  good  or  bad,  could  have 
existed,1  it  follows  that  these  principles  are  superior,  as  well  as 
anterior,  to  use.  Else,  practical  work  is  but  a  blind  groping  in 
the  dark,  a  wild  beating  of  the  air,  which,  by  the  grace  of  God 
or  the  fatuitous  combination  of  atoms,2  accomplishes  its  results, 
— results  that  not  only  were  not  foreseen,  but  positively  could 
not  have  been  foreseen.  But  does  any  one  believe  that  mental 
action — and  all  art-work  pre-supposes  an  intelligent,  reasoning 
artist — is  thus  at  hit  or  miss?  In  some  cases,  to  be  sure,  the 
underlying  and  controlling  principle  can  not  easily,  or  even  with 
difficulty,  be  detected  ;  but  it  surely  does  not  follow,  hence, 
that  no  such  principle  exists  ;  that,  because,  in  these  cases,  man 
seems  to  act  without  reason,  he  acts  so  in  all  cases,  even  in 
those  in  which  the  reason  can  be  discovered.  On  the  contrary, 
the  presumption  is  fair  that,  since  in  so  many  cases,  a  reason- 
able explanation  of  Usage  can  be  found,  such  explanation 
must  exist  for  those  cases,  also,  in  which  it  has  not  been 
detected. 

86.  Secondly,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  man,  though  apparently  free 
to  use  his  language  as  he  will,  is,  in  truth,  bound  by  definite 
laws.  These  he  may  no  more  transcend,  than  he  may  digest 
his  food  in  his  lungs,  or  walk  in  steps  of  seven  leagues  each. 
For  language  is  the  product,  not  of  man's  mental  faculties  only, 
but  of  his  physical  organism  as  well;  and  this  physical  organism, 
developed  in  the  very  years  of  his  life  in  which  he  is  .acquiring 
his  mother  tongue  or  the  other  language  he  may  learn  in  child- 

1  Appendix,  p.  333. 

2  And  what  odds  does  it  make,  if  man  is  such  an  irrational  creature  as  the 
(".<ii.il  Use  theory  pre-supposes  ? 


58  STYLE. 

hood,  on  this  account  takes  the  form  (especially,  the  mutual 
relations  of  its  parts)  that  is  necessary  to  the  full  and  perfect 
enunciation  of  this  particular  language.  Later  in  life,  there- 
fore, when  the  organs  of  speech  are  settled  into  their  due 
relationships,  and  have  lost  (in  great  measure,  at  least)  their 
capacity  to  re-adjust  themselves, — later  in  life,  man  is  bound  by 
this  physical  condition,  and,  while  he  can,  of  course,  still 
acquire  foreign  tongues  well  enough  to  make  them  in  a  high 
sense  valuable,  he  meets,  in  perhaps  every  case,  certain  sounds 
for  the  making  of  which  his  physical  organism  is  incompetent. 
The  children  of  Ephraim  could  not  say  Shibboleth,1  as  the 
Greeks  could  not  say  Sh cm;  the  Sandwich  Islanders,  importing 
English  steel,  both  thing  and  name,  were  obliged,  in  order  to 
pronounce  even  so  simple  a  combination,  to  transform  it  into 
Kila?  The  German,  whose  th  is  t,  stumbles  painfully  over  the 
delicately  shaded  sounds  of  this  digraph  in  English  ;  the  Eng- 
lishman, though  on  the  rack  of  supreme  effort,  never  pronounces 
like  a  native  the  German  oe  or  the  French  u.  So  throughout 
the  coasts  of  human  speech,  of  the  many  sounds  and  combina- 
tions of  sounds  ideally  possible,  only  a  small  part  are  actually 
pronounced  by  any  one  people.  Some  languages  have  but 
eight  consonants;  others  as  many  as  forty-eight :  in  every 
nation,  certain  ideally  possible  sounds  can  at  best  be  only 
approximated  by  even  the  ablest  speakers,  while  others  must 
simply  be  despaired  of.2 

S7.  Thirdly,  if  these  things  are  not  so,  why  is  any  form  mon- 
strous? A  child  with  six  toes  on  one  foot  or  with  his  heart  on 
the  right  side  of  his  body,  is  not  simply  an  offence  against 
correct  Taste :  such  a  creation  violates  the  laws  of  Nature, 
and  is  therefore  monstrous.  So,  in  Art,  monstrosities  are 
forms  that  contradict  well-ascertained  principles, — principles 
true  in  the  nature  of  man  or  of  the  work  proposed  or  in  some 
other  necessary  circumstance.  Surely,  no  amount  of  authority 
could  succeed  in  foisting  such  forms  permanently  upon  any  art. 
Fashion  might  make  them  temporarily  popular,  and,  indeed, 

■Judges  xii.  6. 

2  Miiller,  The  Science  of  Language,  II.  Lcct.  IV.;  where  may  be  found  many 
other  curious  examples  of  the  working  of  this  law.  The  opposite  view  of  the 
case  is  taken  by  Prof.  Whitney,  Language  and  the  Study  of  Language ,  pp. 
35  ff.  But  which  opinion  is  preferable, — that  man  is  simply  a  self-willed  child, 
or  that  he  is  intelligent,  law-governed,  and  law-abiding  in  this  as  in  other 
respects  ? 


THE   STANDARD    OF    PURITY.  59  , 

has  done  so  ;  but  the  good  sense  of  the  nation  has  ultimately 
asserted  itself.  For  example,  Anglo-Saxon  hw  gave  Modern 
English  the  initial  wh  in  such  words  as  whale,  who,  etc.  In  the 
16th  century,  a  fashion  arose  of  prefixing  w  to  many  words 
beginning  with  //  that  by  their  etymology  had  no  right  to  it ;  as, 
whot  for  hot,  whome  for  home,  wrapt  for  rapt.  But,  the  impro- 
priety once  remarked,  the  superfluous  letter  was  soon  dropped, 
and  the  correct  forms  resumed  their  place.  So,  under  the  false 
impression  that  the  's  of  the  English  possessive  case  was  a 
contraction  of  the  word  his,  such  constructions  as  the  king 
his  crown,  the  queen  her  robe,  had  their  day  ;  but  they  cedsed 
to  be,  as  soon  as  the  fact  was  remembered  that  Anglo-Saxon 
is  an  inflected  language,  and  that  English  's  simply  represents 
an  older  genitive  case-ending.  Like  everything  unnatural,  such 
forms  survive  or  perish  in  direct  ratio  to  their  approximation 
to  what  is  natural.  Often  they  exist  only  in  the  imagination  of 
the  poets,  like  the  single  eye  of  the  Cyclops  or  the  fan-like 
wings  of  Satan. 

88.  Fourthly,  the  facts  of  Usage  itself  all  point  the  same  way. 

89.  (1)  When  Usage  is  settled,  a  sufficient  reason  can  gen- 
erally be  given  for  it  (a);  although  sometimes  this  reason  only 
accounts  for  the  usage,  without  establishing  its  propriety  or 
even  its  expediency  (b).  Thus,  (a)  the  rule  that  requires  the 
objective  case  after  a  transitive  verb,  rests  upon  a  necessary 
law  of  thought.  For,  although,  in  many  instances,  (especially 
in  English  and  other  slightly  inflected  languages,)  the  nomina- 
tive and  objective  cases  are  alike  in  form, — in  other  words,  the 
case  distinction  has  disappeared, — -yet  their  /unction  in  the 
sentence  is  never  the  same,  and  they  themselves  are  as  radically 
distinguished  by  function  as  by  case-ending,  (b)  The  spelling 
of  number  with  a  b,  or  of  sound  with  a  d,  while  it  can  be 
accounted  for,  can  not  be  shown  to  be  necessary.  Derived 
respectively  from  the  Latin  numerus  and  sonus,  the  words 
take  b  or  d  by  "eduction ,"  the  prolonging  of  m  or  n  with  the 
lips  tightly  closed.  This  prolongation  may  at  first  have  been  a 
mere  drawl  or  otherwise  lazy  pronunciation,  the  voice  staying 
on  in  or  n  until  the  result  followed;1  but  this,  of  course,  is  not 

1  Compare/  from  m  and  /  fromrf;  as, presumption,  from  Lat.  sumo,  sumptum; 
serpent  from  Lat.  serpens,  serpentis.  (That  the  Romans  were  "lazy"  two 
thousand  years  ago  does  not  injure  the  examples.  Varmint,  for  vermin,  (a 
French  word,  as  if  from  the  Latin  verminus),  and  sarmint,  for  sermon  (Latin 
sermo,  sermonis),  belong  entirely  at  home.) 


60  STYLE. 

a  necessary  principle.  For,  in  numb  and  limb  (Anglo-Saxon 
numen  and  lim),  though  the  b  is  written,  it  is  not  pronounced; 
in  slim  (old  Dutch  slim),  it  is  neither  written  nor  pronounced, — 
that  is,  eduction  has  not  taken  place;  while  in  clime  (Greek 
klima)  and  climb  (Anglo-Saxon  climban  or  clymmian),  though 
heard  in  neither,  it  is  written  in  one.  So,  too,  in  gown,  (pro- 
bably a  Celtic  word),  d  is  added  only  in  provincial  utterance; 
but  in  bound,  whether  it  mean  a  limit  or  ready  to  go  eduction 
has  taken  place.1 

90.  The  ' '  sufficient  reason  ' '  may  even  rest  on  (c)  a  misap- 
prehension, or  (d)  a  statement  absolutely  false,  and  yet  may 
both  account  for  the  usage  and  seem  to  justify  it.  Thus,  (c)  if 
the  phrases  it  is  I,  it  is  he,  etc. ,  ever  become  the  only  good  use 
for  it  is  me,  etc.,  the  controlling  reason  will  undoubtedly  be  the 
erroneous  belief  that  the  English  predicate  after  the  verb  to  be 
necessarily  takes  the  same  case  as  its  subject ; 2  whereas  the  truth 
is  that  it  is  me,  etc.,  are  peculiar,  idiomatic  expressions,  and 
take,  not  the  nominative,  but  the  dative  case  in  the  predicate. 
Me,  etc.,  in  this  idiom  are  not  accusatives — the  case  of  the  direct 
object — but  old  datives — the  case  of  the  indirect  object — 
adopted,  doubtless,  under  the  influence  of  the  French  c'  est 
mot,3  and  preserved  in  the  popular  speech  despite  the  gramma- 
rians, (d)  At  a  time  when  contrary  was  still  in  reputable  use) 
Walker4  wrote,  "The  accent  of  this  word  is  invariably  placed 
on  the  first  syllable  by  all  correct  speakers,  and  as  constantly 
removed  to  the  second  by  the  illiterate  and  vulgar," — "rather 
hard  terms,"  adds  Mr.  Earle,5  "to  apply  to  the  really  time- 
honored  and  classical  pronunciation  of  contrary . "  But  see 
what  came  of  it.  The  accent  of  this- word  was,  indeed,  on  its 
way  back, — as  in  a  host  of  English  words,  which  seem  more 
easily  pronounced  so  than  with  the  accent  on  the  penult ;  but 
two  other  words,  of  like  formation,  then  retained  their  penul- 
timate accent,  vagdry  and  ouanddry.6    Under  Walker's  lead, 

1Skeat,  Etymo.  Diet.,  s.  vv. 

2  A.  J.   Ellis,  Letter  to  The  Reader  (English   newspaper),  cited  in  Alford's 

n's  English,  note  F.,  pp.  2S5-7.   (See  §  168  (5),  bel 

3  The  dative  in  this  construction  is  not  unknown,  however,  to  other  Teutonic 
languages. 

4 Pronouncing  Dictionary,  s.  v. 

5  The  Philology  of  the  English  Tongue,  p.  155. 

6  Vagary  is  still  so  pronounced  according  to  all  authorities;    in  regard  to 
quandary  there  is  a  difference  of  usage. 


THE   STANDARD    OF    PURITY.  6 1 

however,  it  soon  seemed  as  "  vulgar  and  illiterate  "  not  to  say 
vdgary  and  quandary  as  not  to  say  contrary ;  and  popular  usage 
soon  changed  the  accent  of  both  words. 

91.  (2)  When  Usage  is  unsettled  ("divided  "  :),  an  appeal  to 
fundamental  principles  becomes  necessary.2  This  appeal  would 
undoubtedly  both  be  made  the  sooner  and  be  the  more  binding, 
were  it  not  that  the  general  acceptance  of  Good  Use  as  the 
Standard  of  Purity  delays  a  settlement  in  such  cases,  and  that 
men  are  not  always — perhaps  not  commonly — either  able  to  be 
convinced  by  what  is  reasonable,  or  willing  to  be  controlled  by 
it.  For  example,  in  that  curious  case  of  attraction,  these  kind 
of  books,  the  moment  it  is  shown  that  agreement  by  attraction 
is  not  an  English  mode  of  thought,  but  simply  (as,  perhaps,  it 
was  in  Latin  and  Greek)  a  blunder,  all  ground  for  the  solecism 
is  swept  away. 

92.  (3)  That  usage  is  most  easily  unsettled  which  does  not 
rest  upon  necessary  truth, — in  other  words,  that  usage  which 
can  be  accounted  for,  but  can  not  be  shown  to  be  binding.  In 
this  case,  either  of  three  results  may  follow; — (a)  the  usage 
may  change,  (b)  it  may  become  obsolete,  or  (c)  two  forms  may 
grow  up  side  by  side  in  the  language.  For  example,  (a)  the 
termination  -or  has  long  contended  with  -our  in  such  words  as 
honor,  parlour,  etc.  Chaucer  wrote  -it re  (for  French  -eur), 
and  Shakspere  -our;  but,  before  1750,  Latin  influences  had  cast 
the  weight  for  -or.  Accordingly,  in  1755,  Dr.  Johnson  "restored 
the  ancient  usage"  by  replacing  the  u;  in  1828,  Webster  pro- 
fessed to  do  the  same  thing  by  leaving  it  out ;  and  to-day, 
oddly  enough,  the  u  is  pronounced  (on-ur)  but  the  o  is  written.3 
(b)  In  Shakspere  and  other  older  writers  a  many  takes  the  place 
of  many  a.  In  a  word  many  was  a  noun.  But,  in  English, 
"  speech-part-ship  "  4  depends,  not  upon  termination,  but  upon 
the  function  of  the  word  in  the  sentence  ;  and  hence,  it  can 
change  almost  at  will.  For  this  reason,  many  easily  became  a 
pronoun  and  adjective  ;  while  a  many  fell  into  disuse,  (c)  In 
certain  strong  verbs,  English  has  two  forms  for  the  preterite, 
and  holds  them  both  with  remarkable  tenacity  ;  for  example, 
sang  or  sung,  drank  or  drunk.     The  explanation  of  this  double 

!§  163,  below.  2See  Campbell's  Canons,  §  167,  below. 

3Cf.  neighbor  for  neighbour,  the  Anglo-Saxon  nehgebur. 

4 This  useful,  if  thoroughly  nil-English  compound  is  borrowed  from  Earle's 
Philology  of  the  English  Tongue,   ch.  iv. 


62  STYLE. 

form  is  easy  enough.  Anglo-Saxon  strong  verbs  used  two  stem- 
vowels  in  the  preterite,  one  for  the  ist  and  3d  persons  singular, 
another  for  the  2d  person  singular  and  the  plural.  English  in 
some  cases  borrowed  them  both,  and,  having  no  controlling 
reason  for  keeping  either  exclusively,  kept  both,  with  perhaps 
no  care  which  was  used,  or  whether  usage  ever  settled  on  either 
to  the  exclusion  of  the  other. 

93.  Once  more,  though  many  exceptions  exist  to  the  laws  of 
Purity,  as  to  all  rules  that  rest  on  general  principles,  these 
exceptions  are  not  in  any  way  inconsistent  with  the  view  that 
principles,  and  not  mere  use,  give  the  Standard  of  Purity.  For, 
however  clear  it  may  be  that  both  the  regular  and  the  excep- 
tional form  can  not  rest  upon  the  same  underlying  truth,  yet  it 
is  equally  clear,  of  course,  that  the  exception  may  rest  (as,  in 
fact,  it  always  does  rest)  on  another  truth  equally  valid  in  itself 
and  equally  nomothetical.  This  is  peculiarly  true  in  those 
exceptional  cases  that  are  always  treated  under  the  head  of 
Divided  Usage, — the  cases  that  must  be  judged  by  an  appeal  to 
fundamental  law  ; 1  while,  in  the  exceptional  cases  for  which  no 
explanation  has  been  found,  there  is,  of  course,  no  necessity 
for  concluding  that  no  explanation  exists. 

94.  Finally,  the  Good  Use  theory  is  inconsistent  with  itself. 
(1)  Though  it  accepts  as  the  final  arbiter  in  language  the  fashion 
or  custom  of  the  speakers  of  that  language,  it  nevertheless  at 
once  proceeds  to  define  what  fashion  or  custom  it  intends,  and 
to  appeal  to  ^a^ra  to  confirm  this  definition.  "Language," 
says  Campbell,2 ' '  is  purely  a  species  of  fashion,  in  which,  by  the 
general  but  tacit  consent  of  the  people  of  a  particular  state  or 
country,  certain  sounds  come  to  be  appropriated  to  certain 
things,  as  their  signs,  and  certain  ways  of  inflecting  and  com- 
bining these  sounds  come  to  be  established,  as  denoting  the 
relations  which  subsist  among  the  tilings  signified.  //  is  not 
the  business  of  grammar,  as  some  critics  seem  preposterously 
to  imagine,  to  give  law  to  the  fashions  which  regulate  our 
speech.  On  the  contrary,  from  its3  conformity  to  these,  and 
from  that  alone,  it3  derives  all  its3  authority  and  value, ."  Yet 
in  the  very  same  chapter4  Campbell  defines  Good  Use  as 
reputable,  national,  and  present,  and  assigns  reasons  why  it 
must  have  these  characteristics.5    More  than  this,  the  heading 


& 


1  ?  163,  below.  2  Bk  I.  ch.  i—  Cf.  §  83,  above. 

3^32i  (d),  below.  4  Sections  1-3.  5Cf.  §§  96  ff,  below. 


THE   STANDARD   OF   PURITY.  63 

of  a  section  in  Campbell's  very  next  chapter1  reads,  "  Every- 
thing favoured  by  Good  Use,  not  on  that  account  worthy  to  be 
retained;"  and  the  burden  of  the  section  is  that  "in  some 
instances  custom  may  very  properly  be  checked  by  criticism;" 
in  other  words,  that,  though  custom,  and  custom  alone  declares 
what  is  right  in  language,  yet,  when  custom  goes  astray, 
criticism,  appealing  to  fundamental  principles,  may  set  it  right! 
The  guide  is  infallible,  to  be  sure,  but  this  other  guide  is  neces- 
sary now  and  then  to  show  him  the  road!  (2)  In  cases  of 
Divided  Use,  Campbell  lays  down,  and  all  later  writers  have 
accepted  five  "canons,"  which  are  simply  appeals  to  one  or 
more  of  the  sciences  exhibited  above  as  nomothetical  to  Rheto- 
ric.2 Campbell,  indeed,  goes  further  and  states  four  additional 
rules  for  cases  in  which  even  the  best  authority  must  be  set 
aside  ;3 — (a)  "words  and  phrases  remarkably  harsh  and  inhar- 
monious, and  not  absolutely  necessary;"  (/3)  words  whose 
meanings  are  at  war  with  their  own  etymologies;  (>)  words 
obsolete  except  in  certain  phrases;  and  (<?)  "phrases,  which, 
when  analyzed  grammatically,  include  a  solecism,  and  those  to 
which  use  hath  affixed  a  particular  sense"  contradictory  of 
"  the  general  and  established  rules  of  the  language. ' '  * 

95.  The  Standard  of  Purity,  then,  is  ultimately  to  be 
found  in  the  Laws  of  Thought  and  Speech  ;  though, 
proximately,  it  may  be  inferred  from  Good  Use  as  the 
exponent  of  those  laws.  Hence,  it  is  both  convenient 
and  proper  to  study  the  laws  of  Grammatical  Purity, 
rather  as  set  forth  in  Good  Use,  than  as  abstract  truths  of 
the  sciences  nomothetical  to  Rhetoric ;  for  this  plan  is 
practical  rather  than  theoretical,  and  most  surely  pro- 
motes skill  in  composition.  It  will  therefore  be  followed 
in  this  volume. 

HI.  ii.  2.  2See§§  166  ff,  below.  *Utcit. 

4  Rule  (a)  is  clearly  a  principle  of  ^Esthetics ;  rules  (0),  (y)  and  (&),  principles 
of  Logic.  Coming  from  an  author  who  denies  the  right  of  Grammar  to  give 
laws  to  language,  rule  (6)  is  absolutely  refreshing. 


64  STYLE. 


III. 
THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  GOOD  USE. 

96.  The  first  question  that  arises  is,  what  use  is  Good? 
who  are  the  best  writers  and  speakers — those  writers 
and  speakers,  in  other  words,  whose  usage  so  generally 
conforms  to  the  laws  of  thought  and  speech,  that  it  may  be 
accepted  as  the  proximate  Standard  of  Purity  f 

97.  The  answer  to  this  question  has  been  unanimous: 
The  best  writers  and  speakers  are  those  who  now  enjoy  a 
7iational  reputation.  In  other  words,  Good  Use  is  (1) 
Reputable,  (2)  National,  (3)  Present.  Many  writers  who 
have  enjoyed  such  a  reputation  ;  many  who  are  now  held 
in  local  repute ;  many  who,  though  they  live  now  and 
are  widely  read,  yet  confessedly  use  a  diction  not  that  of 
reputable  writers  ; — many  writers  of  these "  classes  are 
models  of  style  in  other  particulars,  but  they  can  not  be 
cited  as  authorities  for  Good  Use.  For  example,  Bacon's 
Essays  and  the  Bible  of  1611  are  to-day  as  valuable 
exponents  of  certain  qualities  of  style  as  are  any 
modern  books,  but  they  are  in  many  cases  archaic  in 
diction.  Hans  Brcitmann  talks  English  that  makes  no 
pretence  to  good  repute.  To  be  cited  as  authoritative 
in  Diction,  a  work  must  have  all  three  characteristics  of 
Good  Use. 

98.  Reputable  Use  is  the -custom  in  speech  of  culti- 
vated people,  the  people  ' '  who  have  had  a  liberal  educa- 
tion, and  are  therefore  presumed  to  be  best  acquainted 
with  men  and  things."1  Words  are  but  signs  of  the 
things  they  name  ;  and  it  is  only  natural  "to  believe,  that 
those  are  the  best  judges  of  the  proper  signs,  and  of  the 
proper  application  of  them,  who  understand  best  the 
things   which    they  represent."  l      For   convenience   of 

'Campbell,  II.  i.  1. 


THE    CHARACTERISTICS    OF    GOOD    USE.  65 

reference,  however,  celebrated  authors  are  taken  in 
place  of  the  whole  class  of  liberally  educated  people ; 
and  reputable  use  includes,  therefore,  "whatever  modes 
of  speech  are  authorized  as  good  by  the  writings  of 
a  great  number,  if  not  the  majority,1  of  celebrated 
authors. ' ' 2 

99.  National  Use  is  the  custom  of  writers  and 
speakers  readily  understood  by  people  that  use  the 
language  anywhere.  From  the  earliest  ages  to  which 
the  existence  of  human  speech  can  be  traced,  a  tendency 
to  dialccticism,  the  divergence  of  language  from  a 
common  form  towards  several  or  many  different  forms, 
has  been  observed.  A  common  dialect  has  never  been 
maintained  except  by  constant  intercourse  or  (among 
cultivated  peoples)  by  a  literature.  Not  only  do  the 
languages  of  savage  tribes  vary  to  a  degree,  and  change 
with  a  rapidity,  that  seems  almost  incredible,3  but  even 
literary  tongues,  now  apparently  settled  beyond  the 
danger  of  serious  modifications,  not  only  have  passed 
through  the  dialectical  stage  before  attaining  uniformity, 
but  show  themselves  now  to  be  liable  at  any  moment, 

1  I.e.,  a.  respectable  minority  may  protect  a  usage.    (See  \  321  (e),  below.) 

2  Campbell,  II.  i.  1. 

3  Max  Midler,  Lectures  on  the  Science  of  Language,  Vol.  I.  Lect.  II.,  (pp. 
61-65,  Am.  Ed. (gives  the  following  remarkable  cases.  (1)  "  Gabriel  Sagard,  who 
was  sent  as  a  missionary  to  the  Hurons  in  1626,  .  .  .  states  that  .  .  .  hardly 
one  village  speaks  the  same  language  as  another:  nay,  that  two  families  of  the 
same  village  do  not  speak  exactly  the  same  language.  And  he  adds  .  .  .  that 
their  language  is  changing  everyday."  (2)  Certain  "missionaries  in  Central 
America  .  .  .  compiled  with  great  care  a  dictionary  of  all  the  words  they 
could  lay  hold  of.  Returning  to  the  same  tribe  alter  a  lapse  of  only  ten  years, 
they  found  that  this  dictionary  had  become  antiquated  ami  useless."  (.■;)  "  Robert 
Moffat,"  missionary  to  Southern  Africa,  writes  "  The  purity  and  harmony  of 
language  is  kept  up  by  .  .  .  pitchos,  or  public  meetings,  by  their  festivals  and 
ceremonies,  as  well  as  by  their  songs  and  their  constant  intei  1  1  >urse.  With  the 
isolated  villagers  of  the  desert  it  is  far  otherwise  ;  they  ha\  e  no  such  mei  tin  ; 
they  are  compelled  to  traverse  the  wilds,  often  to  a  great  distance  from  their 
native  village.  On  such  occasions  the  children  are  left  for  weeks  at  a  time  to 
the  care  of  two  or  three  infirm  old  people.  The  infant  progeny  .  .  .  bfcome 
habituated  to  a  language  of  then  <  ,<  n.  .  .  .  and  in  the  course  pf  one  geneiu.- 
tion  Hi,-  ..•nine  character  of  tin-  language  is  changed." 

5 


66  STYLE. 

upon  the  breaking  down  of  a  standard  of  purity  among 
them,  to  fly  off  at  many  different  tangents  into  dialecti- 
cism  again.  Hence,  the  necessity,  if  a  language  is  to 
be  widely  understood,  of  its  conforming  to  the  national, 
rather  than  to  a  narrower  use. 

ioo.  The  history  of  the  English  language  and  of  its  immediate 
predecessor  on  the  island  of  Britain  illustrates  both  these  state- 
ments. The  speech  of  the  Teutonic  tribes  who  won  Britain 
from  the  Celts  contained  as  many  dialects  as  there  were  tribes. 
In  the  ninth  century,  a  literature  arose ;  and  at  once  a  common 
dialect  was  formed,  the  Anglo-Saxon  of  the  books.  Upon  the 
Norman-French  invasion,  however,  this  standard  was  broken 
down,  and  a  second  Babel,  which  lasted  for  upwards  of  two 
centuries,  was  the  result.  In  the  fourteenth  century,  the  Eng- 
lish of  Chaucer  and  Gower  again  gave  the  nation  a  literary 
tongue,  and  fixed  (in  great  part)  its  modern  peculiarities.  The 
same  story  is  true  of  modern  French.  The  Teutonic  invaders 
of  the  Romanized  Gaul  settled  in  at  least  two  camps,  one  to  the 
north  and  one  to  the  south  of  the  Loire.  In  each  a  literature 
sprang  up ;  but  the  political  events  that  finally  welded  these 
nations  into  a  single  people,  at  first  involved  the  whole  land 
in  dialecticism,  until  further  political  changes,  combined  with 
other  causes,  produced  a  new  standard  speech  about  the  second 
half  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

101.  The  choice  of  a  common  dialect  is  generally  made 
unconsciously.  One  or  more  great  writers  appear;  and  the 
form  of  speech  they  adopt  is  followed  by  all  subsequent  writers 
that  aim  at  more  than  a  local  reputation.  For  example,  in  an 
era  of  unquestionable  dialecticism  in  each  land,  Chaucer  wrote 
The  Canterbury  Talcs  and  so  settled  the  literary  form  of 
modern  English  ;  Dante,  The  Divine  Comedy,  and  fixed  modern 
Italian  ;  Luther,  his  Translation  of  the  Bible,  and  determined 
modern  High  German.  When  a  non-literary  dialect  is  used  for 
literary  purposes,  (as  in  Mr.  Charles  Leland's  Hans  Brcitinann 
and  the  Rev.  William  Barnes's  Poems  in  the  Dorset  Dialect,) 
or  when  several  forms  of  the  same  language  become  literary 
together,  (as  in  ancient  Greece  and  mediaeval  Gaul,)  the  rule 
is  not  affected.  Such  writers  as  Mr.  Leland  and  Mr.  Barnes 
do  not  pretend  (in  works  like  those  just  named)  to  write  the 
literary  dialect ;  and  the  several  forms  of  Greek,  like  Provencal 


THE    CHARACTERISTICS    OF    GOOD    USE.  67 

and  French,  were  really  the  national  tongues  of  independent 
states.1 

102.  Present  Use  is  not  so  easily  defined.  To  say- 
exactly  when  a  word  has  passed  out  of  current  into 
archaic  diction,  or  how  long  a  new  word  must  wait  for 
recognition,  is  impossible  ;  since,  if  there  were  no  other 
difficulty  in  the  way,  there  would  be  the  fact  that  a 
language  is  commonly  spoken  by  several  generations  at 
once,  and  that  words  still  fresh  in  the  memory  of  a  Long- 
fellow, may  be  obsolescent  in  the  view  of  a  Howells,  or 
even  obsolete  in  that  of  a  Miss  Woolson.  Besides,  words 
are  in  current  speech  as  men  in  society :  they  come  and 
go  almost  without  observation  ;  they  disappear  for  a 
while,  as  if  gone  on  a  journey,  and  then,  as  suddenly  as 
returned  travellers,  take  their  places  again  in  Good  Use. 
So,  too,  one  word  springs  almost  unheralded  into  full 
reputation  ;  for  example,  telegram,  which  was  deliberately 
proposed  in  the  Albany  Evening  Journal,  April  6,  1852, 
as  a  substitute  for  telegraph  or  telegraphic  dispatch  or 
message?  and  was  soon  unanimously  accepted  as  a  valua- 
ble addition.  Others  wait  long  for  recognition  ;  as,  stand- 
point and  scientist,  still  (perhaps)  unused  by  the  most 
conservative  writers.  Others  again,  though  long  since 
cast  out  of  the  literary  language,  survive  in  the  natural 
speech3  of  both  educated  and  uneducated  alike.  For 
example,  the  double  negative,  used  for  emphasis,  in  our 
older  literature,  driven  out  by  the  philosophizing  gram- 
marians, and  utterly  indefensible  to-day,  is  nevertheless 
still  heard,  as  a  slip,  in  the  hurried  speech  of  many  people 

'See  Goodwin's  Greek  Grammar,  pp.  xix.,  xx. ;  Freeman's  General  Sketch 
of  History,  chap's  ii.  II,  v.  8,  9,  vii.  6,  xi.6,  xii.  6;  Craik's  English  Literature, 
1.  pp.  121  IT. ;  Miss  H.  W.  Preston's  translation  of  Frederic  Mistral's  Mireio, 
Introduction. 

2Webster's  Diet.  (1864),  s.  v.    Cf.  anagram,  monogram,  etc. 

3  That  is,  speech,  not  so  much  unguarded  or  ignorant,  as  instinctive,  untram- 
melled by  present  use  or  the  philosophizing  of  the  men  who  have  (and  often 
successfully)  put  their  own  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  in  language  in  place  of  the 
broad,  general  laws  of  the  human  mind  and  human  speech. 


68  STYLE. 

who  not  only  know  better  but  would  not  think  of  justifying 
themselves  in  the  blunder.1  Two  principles  of  judgment, 
however,  are  clearly  applicable, — (i)  intelligibility,  (2) 
moderation.  If  a  word  has  ceased  to  be  generally  under- 
stood,— especially,  if  a  newer  word  has  largely  replaced 
it, — a  careful  writer  will  doubtless  not  use  it,  or,  if  at  all, 
only  in  cases  in  which  he  feels  sure  of  making  his  mean- 
ing clear  :  he  will  commonly  prefer  the  newer  word.  On 
the  other  hand,  accepting  Polonius's  advice,  though  he  be 
' '  familiar, ' '  he  will  not  be  ' '  vulgar  :"his  maxim  will  be, — 

"Those  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hoops  of  steel ; 
But  do  not  dull  thy  palm  with  entertainment 
Of  each  new-hatch'd,  unfledged  comrade." 

Or,  in  the  form  long  ago  used  by  Ouintilian,  "As  of  new 
words  the  best  are  the  very  oldest,  so  of  old  words  the 
best  are  the  very  newest. ' ' 

103.  Examples  illustrative  of  these  characteristics  of  Good 
Use  would  be  but  hindrances  to  the  student,  unless  they  were 
w  hole  works,  or  (at  least)  lengthy  excerpts  from  the  works  of 
many  celebrated  authors.  One  who  would  know  with  certainty 
what  pure  English  is,  who  would  cultivate  his  taste — acquire 
the  literary  sense — should  read  consecutively  a  series  of  good 
English  writers  and  criticize  them  minutely.  This  work 
can  be  done  best,  after  the  study  of  Rhetoric  has  been  com- 
pleted ;  and  it  forms  then,  as  does  the  writing  of  composi- 
tions, an  important  part  of  Rhetorical  Praxis.2  Meanwhile 
the  most  that  can  be  done  is  to  classify  the  offences  against 
Purity  and  give  examples  of  them.  These  examples  will  at 
least  serve  to  warn  the  student  against  making  similar  errors, 
and  so  will  enhance  his  appreciation  of  a  really  good  diction. 

'Such  constructions,  by  way  of  emphasis, — the  double  comparative  and  the 
double  superlative  are  other  examples  common  enough  in  older  English  liter- 
ature,— are  justifiable  upon  many  grounds,  and  have  been  sacrificed  in  English 
at  the  dictation  of  men  usually  least  competent  to  judge. 

2  A  valuable  guide  to  such  criticism  is  Minto's  Manual  of  English  Prose 
Literature,  a  detailed  study  of  the  style  of  De  Ouincey,  Macaulay  and  Carlyle, 
with  a  less  extended  summary  and  criticism  of  the  works  of  English  prose 
writers  from  Mandeville  to  Landor  and  Lamb  and  Hazlitt. 


OFFENCES   AGAINST    PURITY.  69 


IV. 
OFFENCES  AGAINST   PURITY. 

104.  Errors  in  Diction  have  long  been  classified  in  two 
ways ; — 

(I.)  As  opposed  to  1.  Reputable,  2.  National,  3. 
Present  Use;1 

(II.)  With  reference  to  the  Departments  of  Grammar 
under  which  they  fall, — 1.  Etymology,  2.  Syntax,  3. 
Lexicography . z 

105.  The  two  classifications  are  entirely  distinct  ;  each  has  its 
own  principle  of  division  ;  each  includes  all  possible  offences 
against  Purity.  Every  violation  of  Purity,  therefore,  can  be 
classified  in  both  ways ;  first,  as  opposed  to  Good  Use,  and, 
secondly,  as  offending  against  a  principle  of  Grammar.  Nat- 
urally, however,  the  fuller  discussion  and  exemplification  of  the 
subject  will  be  reserved  for  the  second  division  of  the  subject. 

(1.)  Violations  of  Purity  as  Opposed  to  Good  Use. 
1.  Violations  of  Reputable  Use. 

106.  Violations  of  Reputable  Use  are,  (1)  Vulgar- 
isms,3 modes  of  speech  used  chiefly  by  the  illiterate  ; 
(2)  Idiotisms,4  the  affectations  and  the  mannerisms  of 
single  writers  or  groups  of  writers.     For  example  ; — 

(1)  Vulgarisms  :  Ain't5  don  t  (for  does  n't),5  walkist,  to 
wire,y  on  was,  to  you  and  I,  lay  (for  lie  or  laid),  laid  (for  lay) 

1  Day,  §285.  See  §  97,  above.  The  distinctions  had,  of  course,  been  made 
long  before  Day  wrote  ;  but  he  was  the  first  to  state  them  formally.  Curiously 
enough,  he  does  not  name  either  the  vulgarism  or  the  neologism.  ((£  106  and 
131,  below.) 

2Quintilian,  Inst.  Oral.,  I.  v.  5. 

3Latin  valgus,  the  many,  and,  hence,  the  illiterate,  since  the  correct  use  of 
language  has  ever  been  the  acquisition  of  but  comparatively  few  people. 

4Greek  iSiwTTjs  (idiotes),  a  citizen  of  peculiar  political  habits. 

6  Many  such  contractions,  don't  (for  do  not),  isn't,  aren't,  shan't,  etc.,  are 
actually  preferable  in  informal  speech  or  writing;  but  no  valid  excuse  (one 
would  think)  can  be  found  for  ain't,  unless,  indeed,  its  nearly  universal  use 
warrants  it.  I  am  not  is  easily  shortened  into  I'm  not;  and  ain't  lor  isn't 
or  aren't  or  have  n't  is,  of  course,  unnecessary. 


7<3  STYLE. 

leave  (for  let),  female  (for  woman,  lady),  individual  (for  person, 
man,  woman),  less  (for  fewer),  fewest  (for  smallest),1  gums, 
or  rubbers  (for  overshoes),  gentleman  or  /<?i/y  (for  ?«««  or 
woman),  manor  woman  (for gentleman  or  lady). 

"Tact  and  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,"  says  Alfred 
Ayres,2  "  decide  when  a  man  is  a  man  or  when  he  is  a  gentle- 
man.^ Each  word  is  good  in  its  place;  each  is  vulgar  when 
out  of  its  place.  Gentleman  and  lady  are,  of  course,  far  more 
frequently  misused  than  man  or  woman  ;  and  it  is  no  doubt 
true  ' '  that  the  terms  lady  and  gentleman  are  least  used  by  those 
who  are  most  worthy  of  being  designated  by  them."  2  But  it  is 
no  cure  for  the  misuse  of  either  pair  of  words  to  exclude  ic 
from  the  vocabulary.  "With  a  nice  discrimination  worthy  of 
special  notice,  one  of  our  daily  papers  recently  said,  '  Miss 
Jennie  Halstead,  daughter  of  the  proprietor  of  the  Cincinnati 
Commercial,  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  young  women  in 
Ohio  ;  ""2  but,  surely,  Mrs.  So  and  So  ought  not  to  speak  of  her 
friends  invited  to  a  germ  an  as  so  many  men  and  women? 
Mr.  So  and  So  may  ask  a  few  men  to  the  Club,  or  even  to  his 
own  house  ;  but  both  men  and  women,  when  spoken  of  as 
holding  a  certain  social  position,  should  be  mentioned  with 
courtesy  and  deference.  In  this  view  they  are  gentlemen  or 
ladies,  and  should  be  called  so. 

An  absurd  expression,  verbose  as  well  as  wrong  in  sense,  is 
the  phrase  a  Boston  lady  or  a  Philadelphia  gentleman  for  a 
Bostonian,  a  Philadelphia)!,  or  equivalents. 

(2)  Idiotisms  :  Tipsify?  toxophilitc?  divagation?  Thuky- 
dides?  Hcrodotos?  Senlac,6  Elsass?  Pegensburg,6  neither  .... 
or,1  egoism,  egoist  (for  egotism,  egotist)? 

1  As  in  less  people,  the  fewest  number,  etc.  The  construction  may  be 
explained  as  attraction  or  ad  intellectum  (to  the  thought  in  the  writer's  mind, 
as  opposed  to  the  thought  expressed) ;  but  this  is  only  apologizing  for  error 
with  high-sounding  names. 

2  The  Verbalist,  s.  v.  Lady. 

3  A  recent  (and,  doubtless,  a  passing)  fashion. 

4  Thackeray,  Vanity  Fair. 

6  A  purism  imitated  from  the  German,  and  practised  by  its  few  supporters 
with  a  refreshing  disregard  for  either  consistency  or  uniformity. 

'Another  purism,  originated  (apparently)  by  Dr.  E.  A.  Freeman. 

7  In  Shakspere,  two  cases  are  plain  slips  or  misprints  (Meas.,YV.  ii.  108;  I 
Henry  VI.,  v.  i.  59),  and  in  a  third  (Cor.,  II.  ii.  13)  neither  is  not  correlative, 
but  stands  for  not.    (Cf.  1.  18  of  the  same  scene.) 

8  George  Eliot  and  her  imitators. 


OFFENCES   AGAINST    PURITY.  7 1 

107.  Many  vulgarisms  spring  from  what  has  been 
aptly  termed  the  "slovenly"  use  of  words, — their  use, 
that  is,  in  a  sense  either  grossly  exaggerated  or  else 
vague  and  indefinite.  Thus,  awfully,  dreadfully,  terri- 
bly, etc.,  are  used  for  very  or  quite ;  very  or  quite,  when 
no  qualifying  word  is  needed  ;  nice,  without  any  definite 
meaning;  beastly,  nasty,  for  ugly,  uncomfortable;  and  so 
on  ad  nauseam.  Whether  it  records  an  actual  occur- 
rence, or  not,  the  story  of  the  witty  American  girl's 
reply  to  an  overpunctilious  [!]  Englishman  points  the 
moral  here  intended.  "Why  do  you  say  'nice'?" 
he  asked:  "I  think  'nice'  is  a  nasty  word."  "And 
why  do  you  say  '  nasty '  ?  "  she  rejoined  :  "do  you  think 
'nasty'  a  nice  word?"  For  a  correct  use  of  nice  in  the 
phrase  "a  nice  discrimination, "  see  the  quotation  from 
Mr.  Ayres,  §  106. 

108.  Vulgarisms  may  be  coarse  or  indelicate  expres- 
sions, but  they  need  not  be.  Indeed,  some  of  the 
deepest-dyed  offences  of  this  class  result  from  the  effort 
to  avoid  indelicacy  or  coarseness.  Older  English  allowed 
a  freedom  of  speech  quite  as  great  as  that  allowed  to- 
day by  certain  foreign  languages.  Sex-names  for  the 
domestic  animals,  dog,  bitch,  horse,  mare,  fox,  vixen, 
he-wolf,  she-wolf,  were  never  censured.  Modest  women 
— ladies  of  the  highest  rank — spoke  in  a  way  that  is  to- 
day condemned  as  coarse  even  on  the  part  of  men. 
Thoughts  now  considered  incommunicable  except  under 
the  strictest  guard,  were  then  freely  interchanged.  To- 
day all  this  is  altered  :  many  persons  "shrink  from  plain 
words,  and  fear  to  call  things  by  their  names. "  '  "  Shade 
of  Cobbet !  we  are  now  forbidden  to  call  a  spade  a  spade ; 
our  speech,  like  Bottom  the  weaver,  is  indeed  trans- 
lated."2 Doubtless,  the  feeling  that  prompts  to  this 
squeamishness  is  delicacy,  but  it  is  a  mistaken  delicacy, 

1  Grant  White,  Words  and  their  Uses,  ch.  v. 

2T.  L.  Kington  Oliphant,  Standard  English,  ch.  vi. 


■J2  STYLE. 

and  it  has  betrayed  many  a  speaker  into  gross  vulgarism.1 
Surely,  the  English  tongue  is  not  so  defective,  that  its 
speakers  must  choose  between  real  indelicacies  and 
actual  vulgarities. 

109.  ' '  Slang, ' '  in  the  sense  of  low,  vulgar  language, 
belongs  under  this  head  ;  but,  meaning  the  language  of 
a  class,  it  is  rather  Technicality,"  an  offence  against 
national  use. 

no.  It  ought  to  be  true  that  vulgarisms  are  used  only 
by  the  illiterate;  but  who  will  declare  himself  sinless, 
save  in  downright  indelicacies?  Bad  habits  of  speech, 
contracted  like  an  epidemic  disease — no  one  knows  how 
— cling  to  many  otherwise  cultured  people,  and  defy  all 
but  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  dislodge  them.  That 
these  efforts  are  worth  making  has  already  been  seen  ; 
that  they  can  be  successful,  let  the  exquisite  purity  of  many 
a  writer  and  speaker  bear  witness.  But  the  student  must 
keep  one  truth  always  before  him.  The  price  of  freedom 
from  blemishes  of  this  sort  is  the  price  of  liberty,  eternal 
vigilance  :  indifference  and  the  Will  Honeycomb  doctrine 
that  to  be  able  to  spell  correctly  ill  befits  the  character 
of  a  gentleman,3  are  the  surest  roads  to  impurity  and 
literary  incapacity. 

in.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  the 
surest  road  to  grammatical  purity  is  not  a  reckless  striv- 
ing after  that  virtue,  but  the  cultivation  of  a  refined  liter- 
ary feeling,  a  taste  that,  like  an  instinct,  prompts  to  the 
use  of  language  simple  yet  elegant,  adorned  or  unadorned 
as  the  case  may  demand,  but  always  unaffected  and  true. 
Purism  is  not  Purity.  In  its  very  determination  to  be 
right  at  all  costs,  it  either  promotes  an  icy  coldness  of 
style,  and  so  removes  a  writer  to  such  a  distance  from 

1  For  example,  what  of  lady-dog  as  a  polite  (!)  equivalent  for  bitch;  and 
this,  though  the  adjective  female  or  the  prefix  she  could  have  been  used, 
if  tlie  special  sex-word  seemed  indelicate?  % 

"I  117,  below. 

3  Spectator,  No.  105.     Cf.  Love's  Labou?s  Lost,  I.,  ii.  4.2. 


OFFENCES   AGAINST    PURITY.  73 

his  readers  that  he  cannot  influence  them,  or  else  betrays 
him  into  substituting  for  really  pure  speech  a  stilted, 
pretentious  language  that  is  certainly  a  most  vulgar  form 
of  the  Vulgarism. 

112.  The  latter  style  of  composition,  known  as  "  fine 
writing,"  especially  besets  the  half-educated,  whether 
those  whose  education  is  as  yet  only  begun,  or  those 
who  for  any  reason  have  not  (as  the  phrase  goes)  "  com- 
pleted their  education."  Several  grades  of  the  bad 
practice  may  be  noted. 

113.  First,  among  imperfectly  educated   professional 
men — especially  those  who,  whatever  their  special  knowl- 
edge, have  no  general  culture,  and  who  seek  to  cover 
their  ignorance  with  a  cloud  of  words — many  abomina- 
tions of  this  sort  may  be  heard.     The  doctor  of  medicine 
who  asks  permission  to  percute  his  patient's  chest ;  the 
lawyer  whose  "small  Latin  and  less  Greek  "  leads  him 
to  write  fecit  per alium  instead  of  act  by  another,  or  whose 
mistaken  idea  of  what  constitutes  "good  English"  sets 
him  on  to  say  the  heterogeneous  masses  with  whom  our 
profession  brings  us  into  daily  contact  instead  of  the  com- 
mon people  whom  I  must  meet  every  day ;  the  clergyman 
who  exhorts  his  hearers  to  add  ' '  one  more  blossom  to 
the  millennial  consummation,"  or  who  can  not  say  that 
plenty  of  soap  'and  water  have  a  healthy  bracing  effect 
upon  the  body,  but  must  talk  of  habits  of  cleanliness  and 
daily  ablutions — are  sad  examples  ;  for  they  are  ' '  sinners 
above  all  the  Galileans,"  their  place  among  highly  culti- 
vated men  demanding  better  things  of  them. 

"Her  Majesty's  Diplomatic  and  Consular  servants  have  been 
officially  reminded  that  whatever  may  be  the  forms  and  habits 
of  speech  in  the  countries  where  they  reside,  they  are  expected 
to  communicate  with  the  Foreign  Office  in  English  pure  and 
undefiled.  Lord  Granville  has  issued  a  circular  containing 
examples  of  grotesque  words  and  slovenly  phrases  taken  from 
the  department  files  of  correspondence  received   during  the 


74  STYLE. 

current  year.  Virtually  this  is  a  warning  to  the  entire  Diplo- 
matic and  Consular  body  that  the  Queen's  servants  must 
speak  and  write  the  Queen's  English.  Many  of  the  literary 
offences  of  which  complaint  is  made  are  so  flagrant  as  to  create 
the  suspicion  that  British  Consuls  are  barely  more  than  half 
educated.  Lord  Granville's  index  expurgatorius  contains  such 
distorted  and  senseless  forms  as  these :  Disrecommended, 
unmotived,  spiritisle,  increasement,  demission  (for  dismissal), 
arrestalion  (for  arrest),  suseilated  (for  raised),  and  veridical 
(for  true).  There  are  many  additional  instances  of  correct 
words  that  are  incorrectly  used.  Transaction  takes  the  place 
of  compromise,  incessantly  of  immediately,  took  act  of  look  note, 
prorogation  of  prolongation,  and  destitution  of  dismissal.  John- 
sonese is  also  a  popular  jargon  in  the  Diplomatic  service. 
Signalize  is  used  in  place  of  point  out,  minimal  is  a  substitute 
for  very  small,  and  category  for  class:  and  instead  of  returning 
to  a  previous  understanding  the  diplomatists  or  consuls  con- 
sider it  more  dignified  to  rally  themselves  to  an  antecedent 
solidarity.  Lord  Granville  seems  to  regard  it  as  discreditable 
to  the  service  that  so  many  correspondents  are  taking  such 
unwarrantable  liberties  with  their  mother  tongue.  He  would 
have  them  speak  and  write  with  a  reasonable  degree  of  purity 
the  language  of  the  country  they  represent.  The  Queen's  Eng- 
lish first,  as  a  matter  of  loyalty  and  common  sense  ;  Spanish  or 
Bengalee  afterward,  if  there  be  leisure  or  wit  to  acquire  famili- 
arity with  the  language  of  the  country  where  they  reside."1 

114.  Secondly,  much  that  is  high-sounding  without  a 
corresponding  elevation  of  thought  finds  its  way  into 
the  language  of  that  large  class  of  worthy  people  who, 
like  Mrs.  Vincy,2  freely  confess  that  they  "never  were 
good  speakers,"  who  find  "the  best  young  men  of 
Middlemarch"  "just  as  plain  and  common "  as  "the 
pick  of  them,"  and  who,  if  they  had  "time  to  think," 
would  say  "  the  most  superior young  men."  In  the  lan- 
guage of  these  good  souls,  a  school  (yt  it  is  to  be  especially 
commended)  is  an  academy,  an  educational  establishment, 
or  even  a  polite  seminary ;  a  college  must  be  a  university  ; 

1  The  New  York  Tribune,  July  30,  1SS3.     (See,  also,  %  116,  below.) 

2  George  Eliot,  Middlemarch,  I.  xi. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  75 

fair  lady  is  too  mean  praise  for  a  female  possessing  con- 
siderable personal  attractions ;  a  farmer,  grown  rich,  is 
an  eminent  agriculturalist ;  healing  waters  are  not  even 
medicinal,  but  therapeutic ;  and  immigrants  no  longer 
settle  in  a  country,  but  locate  therein.1 

1 15.  Finally,  the  penny-a-liner's  average  diction  comes 
under  this  head,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  list.  He  it  is 
who  calls  the  yellow  fever  the  saffron  scourge,2  the  season 
of  fashionable  society  the  socialistic  era2  and  a  strike  of 
cigar-makers  in  Chicago  Chicago  sz  ATicotine  Strike;1 
who  heads  his  account  of  a  fire  in  a  pork -packing  house, 
Swine  Flesh  Incinerated ;2  who  speaks  of  children  of  the 
school-age  as  children  of  schoolable  ages.2  He  always 
vituperates  his  enemies,  never  abuses  or  reviles,  rates 
or  miscalls  them  ;4  his  brethren  in  his  really  honorable 
vocation  (if  he  would  only  exalt  it  to  its  true  place) 5  are 
his  confreres  ;*  his  da?icers  all  trip  the  light  fantastic  toe* 
or  even  the  light  fantastic  (without  toe);  threats  are  min- 
atory expressions /*  and  fire  is  the  devouring  clement.* 
The  men  of  Verdun,  says  one  of  these  scribes,  ingurgi- 
tated spirituous  stimulus.*  ' '  What, ' '  adds  Mr.  Oliphant, 
"will  a  penny  paper  of  1973  be  like?  What  would 
become  of  our  unhappy  tongue,  had  we  not  the  Bible 
and  the  Prayer  Book  to  keep  us  fairly  steady  in  the  good 
old  paths  ?  ' '  And  yet,  with  both  of  these  read  daily  in 
his  church,  an  Irish  Church  of  England  man,  at  a  con- 
vention in  his  land  of  "ornate  phraseology,"  actually 
objected  to  the  word  Ghost  in  the  name  of  the  Third 
Person  of  the  Trinity.4 

116.  The  debt  of  the  modern  world  to  the  newspapers 
is  certainly  great,  perhaps  incalculable.  Yet  ' '  the 
penny-a-liner's  help  is  often  sought  by  an  editor  who 
knows  what   good  English  is, "  4  but  who  pays  tribute 

1  Oliphant,  Standard  English,  ch.  vi. 

2  Recent  Philadelphia  newspapers.  3  ?  145  (3I  (a),  brlow. 
*  Oliphant,  ui  cit.                                                                      b  I  116,  below. 


j6  STYLE. 

(perhaps  unwillingly)  to  the  vulgar  demand  for  veneering 
instead  of  solid  wood.  To  read  the  following  criticism 
of  "newspaper  English"  in  a  New  York  Tribune  edi- 
torial, is,  therefore,  comforting,  though  it  confirms  the 
charges  just  made  ; — 

"  If  the  truth  were  laid  bare,  the  amateur  diplomatists  of  the 
press  would  be  held  responsible  for  a  majority  of  the  literary 
offences  of  the  professional  diplomatists.  Slovenliness  of  style, 
distortions  of  plain  and  honest  words,  a  pretentious  use  of 
incongruous  phrases,  are  bad  habits  which  the  regulars  acquire 
in  their  literary  recreations,  when  the  files  of  the  London 
journals  are  received  and  the  work  of  the  volunteers  comes 
under  their  eyes.  The  newspaper  correspondents  and  leader- 
writers  introduced  such  words  as  veridical,  signalize \  franchise 
of  duties  and  category,  and  the  consuls  and  secretaries  of 
legation  speedily  adopted  them.  The  Paris  correspondent 
of  The  London  Times,  who  fills  up  the  gaps  in  his  acquaintance 
whenever  a  sovereign  out  of  employment  happens  to  stroll 
along  the  Boulevards  in  search  of  a  dinner,  would  keep  a  diary 
and  store  up  reminiscences  for  posthumous  fame,  if  he  were 
not  allowed  to  produce  his  own  and  his  guest's  conversation 
precisely  as  it  occurs.  If  the  use  of  such  phrases  as  antecedent 
and  penultimate  solidarity  were  interdicted,  he  could  not  discuss 
any  phase  of  European  diplomacy.  It  is  the  volunteer  ambas- 
sador of  the  London  pre:s  who  takes  the  mother  tongue 
between  his  teeth  and  bites  it  until  it  bleeds.  He  knows  that 
the  English  people  wish  to  have  public  affairs  discussed  with 
the  utmost  seriousness,  and  accordingly  he  fashions  high-sound- 
ing phrases  and  portentous  words  for  general  use.  They  have 
a  doubtful  ring  at  first,  but  they  soon  pass  current  even  in 
Parliament.  The  diplomatists  in  the  regular  service  have  no 
wish  to  be  archaic  in  matters  of  literary  style.  Accordingly 
they  adopt  the  diplomatic  jargon  of  the  day.-'  (See  \  113, 
above.) 

2.  Violations  of  National  Use. 

117.  Violations  of  National  Use  are,  (1)  Provincial- 
isms, or  local  forms  ;  (2)  Technicalities,  professional 
forms-;  (3)  .-Wen isms,  foreign  forms  not  yet  natural- 
ized.    For  example  ; — 


OFFENCES   AGAINST    PURITY.  77 

(i)  Provincialisms:  folks  {for  family),  parts  {for  region), 
poke,  gownd,1  like  (for  as),  while  (for  until),  without  (for  unless), 
guess  (for  believe,  suppose,  etc.),  right  (for  very),  directly  (for 
as  soon  as),  nicely  (in  answer  to  the  question,  Hoiv  do  you  do?), 
aggravate  (for  provoke),  stop  (for  stay). 

(2)  Technicalities  :  To  make  good  (a  check,  a  deficiency, 
etc.),  to  soar  (of  stocks),  to  dovetail  (for  to  fit  accurately), 
governor  (for  equalizer,  regulator),  to  credit  (for  ascribe  to), 
to  boss,2  to  clerk,'2  3 get  left  (for  fail),"-  figurines.* 

(3)  Alienisms:  salon,  on  the  tapis,  Geistlicher,  (capital  G 
and  all),5  geuia/isch,'0  plastik,:'  a  volume  where  (?)  a  vide  supra 
could  serve  instead  of  repetitions,5  the  word  was  subauditum  in 
the  King's  mind,5 chaussure* schusucht nach  dcr  Liebe,6 sospiri,6 
beggar-brats  singing  a  dismal  chorus  of  Dateci  qualche  cosi,1 
two  or  three  half-baiocchi,"  coutadino*  carre/la,8  poledri,8 
peeoraro,8  osterias,9 pergole,9  fogliette,9  lascia  passare,9  retorlis 
liltore  Etrusco  violcntcr  undis9  maladie  da  pays, 10  gene, 10  ex  vi 
termini,™  tiffin,11  the  caposctta  of  a  certain  movement  in  the 
history  of  Poetry,12  sunlight  which  invites  to  an  idlesse.13 

Glaring  instances  of  the  Alienism  pervading  the  very 
structure  of  a  book  can  be  found  in  Mr.  Story's  Roba  di 
Roma,  already  cited.  Even  the  title  needs  explanation  ( it  can 
not  be  translated ) ;  and  whole  lines  are  sometimes  written  in 
Italian.  u  Valuable  and  interesting  as  the  work  is,  its  useful- 
ness is  much  impaired  by  this  fault. 

Even  the  professed  critics  of  language  sometimes  err  in 
this  respect.  Mr.  Oliphant,  whose  strictures  on  other  writers 
have  already  been  quoted, 15  introduces  Theocritus  without 
translation;  calls  the  contemporaries  of  George  III.  and 
Dr.  Johnson  " prisca  gens  mortalium /"  exclaims,  "O  that  they 
would  learn  ' deduct 'um  ducere  carmen /'  "  and  ' '  Haec  ego  non 

1  See  j3  89,  above. 

2 These  words  are  vulgarisms  and  neologisms  as  well  as  technicalities. 

3"  I  don't  like  figures  well  enough  to  clerk." — The  Bread  Winners,  p.  13. 

4  The  Bread  Winners,  p.  6.  The  word  is  more  correctly  written  figulines. 
It  is  a  technical  term  of  ceramics,  and  means  figures  in  pottery  or  pottery  with 
figures  on  it.  This  connection  with  figure  has,  doubtless,  changed  its  /  to  r. 
Longfellow  uses  figuline  in  Kei  an/i>.\,  st.  8. 

sGeorge  Eliot,  Middlemarch,  passim.  6 1  "anity  Fair,  passim. 

UV.  W.  Story,  Roba  di  R,mia,  p.  1.  8Id.,  p.  2.  "Id.,  p.  4. 

'"Greg,  Enigmas  of  Life.  u  Imported  from  India. 

12  Arthur  Hallam,  in  a  Review  of  Tennyson's  Poems  1 1830). 

"George  Eliot,  Romola,  ch.  xvi.  u  For  example,  on  pp. 56-58. 

lag|  1 14  fT,  above. 


78  STYLE. 

agitem? ;"  contrasts  Horace's  meretrix  and  mairona,  scurra 
and  amicus  ;  remarks  as  to  a  certain  group  of  synonyms  "  haua 
equidem  invideo;  miror  magis ;  "  speaks  of  "  a  London  journal 
or  two  that  might  well  stand  for  the  Cloaca  Maxima;''*  and  all 
this  on  pages  that  lash  the  penny-a-liner's  alienisms,  and  "cry 
up"  Anglo-Saxon  English.  Nor  does  Mr.  Oliphant  mend 
the  matter  by  his  deprecatory  remark,  "I  must  apologize  to 
those  of  my  readers  who  are  unlearned  for  the  Latin  [and 
Greek?]  in  my  text ;  the  truth  is,  that  there  are  so  many  shades 
of  meaning  in  our  words,  that  I  can  not  thoroughly  explain 
myself  without  falling  back  upon  the  foreign  tongue."  Shade 
of  the  myriad-minded  Shakspere,  who  could  explain  himself 
in  English — and  that  Elizabethan  English,  far  poorer  in  vocabu- 
lary than  the  English  of  to-day  ! 

118.  The  Alienism  is  most  objectionable,  of  course, 
when  the  foreign  words  are  many,  when  they  form  whole 
sentences,  or  when  they  are  woven  into  the  very  structure 
of  the  native  speech.  One  can  often  guess  at  the  mean- 
ing of  a  strange  word  or  even  a  phrase,  the  context 
giving  light  enough  ;  but  a  knowledge  of  French  is 
required  to  understand  the  following  ; — 

"  I  did  not  tell  you  Mr.  Lydgate  was  haughty  ;  but  il  y  en  a 
pour  touts  les  gouts,  as  little  Mamselle  used  to  say."  1 

"Or  suppose  we  adopt  the  genteel  rose-water  style.  'The 
Marquis  of  Osborne  has  just  despatched  his  petit  tigre  with  a 
billet  doux  to  the  Lady  Amelia.  The  dear  creature  has  received 
it  from  the  hand  of  her  femme  dc  chambre,  Mademoiselle 
Anastasie.  "Dear  Marquis!  what  amiable  politeness!  His 
lordship's  note  contains  the  wished-for  invitation  to  Devon- 
shire House."  "Who  is  that  monstrous  fine  girl,"  said  the 
Semillant  Prince  G  .  .  .  rge  of  C  .  .  .  mbr  .  .  .  dge,  at  a 
mansion  in  Piccadilly  the  same  evening  ..."  Her  name,  Mon- 
seigneur,  is  Sedley."  "  Vous  avez  alors  tin  bien  beau  nom,"  said 
the  young  prince,  turning  .  .  .  ,  and  treading  on  the  foot  of 
an  old  gentleman  ..."  Trcnte  mille  tonnerres  /"  shouted  the 
victim,  writhing  under  the  agonie  du  moment.'  "  2 

1  George  Eliot,  Middlemarch.     For  Mamselle,  see  §  119,  below. 

2  Thackeray,  Vanity  Fair,  ch.  vi.,  The  Night  Attack.— The  passage,  of 
course,  satirizes  the  practice  it  exemplifies.  (In  late  English  editions  it  is 
omitted,  and  a  rather  dull,  meaningless  paragraph  substituted.) 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  79 

119.  Yet  rhetoricians  have,  perhaps,  been  too  dog- 
matic in  stating  the  rule  against  the  Alienism.  Neither 
Good  Use  nor  Good  Sense  sustains  an  absolute  standard. 
There  is  surely  a  difference  (at  least  in  degree  of  offence) 
between  naive  or  even  naivete,  in  an  English  book  or 
speech,  and  Mr.  Cassaubon's^aTrr^wz,1  between  an  occa- 
sional slip  into  alienism  and  the  completely  debauched 
style  of  the  example  ridiculed  by  Thackeray.  English, 
in  particular,  can  not  be  subjected  to  a  rigid  rule.  Not 
only  is  it  a  composite  tongue,  but  it  has,  of  all  lan- 
guages, most  enriched  itself,  and  is  still  enriching  itself, 
by  drawing  synonyms  from  foreign  sources.  Mr.  Earle's 
dictum,2  "  That  a  French  family  settled  in  England,  and 
edited  the  English  language,'"  describes  only  the  English 
of  Chaucer.  Accretions  have  since  been  made  from 
Latin  (at  several  periods),  from  Greek,  literary  French, 
Celtic,  and  many  other  sources.  Haldeman 3  gives  lists 
of  words  from  twenty-eight  languages  that  have  become 
English  ;  and  foreign  names  for  foreign  things  are  almost 
numberless  in  English  ;  for  example,  tea,  coffee,  alcohol, 
calico,  muslin,  cologne,  (cologne-water,  Eau-de-Cologne) , 
barege.  Even  English  syntax  is  not  wholly  native. 
The  Anglo-Saxon  relative  pronoun  was  commonly  that ; 
who,  which  and  what  were  usually  interrogatives  ;  but, 
with  the  coming  of  Norman  French  into  England,  the 
Romance  custom  was  added  to  the  Teutonic,  and  modern 
English  made  the  richer  thereby.  So,  English  syntax 
is  "flat" — that  is,  non-inflectional — chiefly  because  the 
French  conquest  shook  the  tree  of  Anglo-Saxon  inflec- 
tions so  rudely  as  to  bring  them  nearly  all  to  the  ground. 
Emphasis  must  be  placed  on  the  words  "  not  yet  natur- 
alized "  in  the  definition  of  Alienism  ;  or  not  only  will 
the  law  of  Good  Use,  with  its  underlying  principle  of 
"  life  in  language,"  be  contradicted,  but  the  vocabulary 
of  the  language  will  be  sadly  impoverished. 

1  Middlemarch.  -Philology ,  p.  99.  3  Etymology,  pp.  105  ff. 


8o  STYLE. 

1 20.  When,  then,  shall  a  form  be  considered  natural- 
ized? when  shall  such  words  as  boulevard  (a  broad,  hand- 
some avenue),  cuisine,  resume,  kaiser  (emperor),  gymna- 
sium (the  English  and  American  college),  be  admitted  to 
thoughtful,  careful  writing, — writing  that  aims  at  purity 
without  purism  ?  Three  cases  may,  perhaps,  be  distin- 
guished ; — {a)  forms  that  have  not  even  ' '  declared  their 
intention"  of  becoming  citizens;  (b)  such  as  have  so 
declared,  and  will,  therefore,  in  all  likelihood,  soon  be 
admitted  to  the  language ;  (c)  naturalized  forms.  The 
last  case  needs  no  discussion  : 1  doubt  arises  only  in  cases 
(a)  and  (b).  Wholly  foreign  forms  can  easily  be  recog- 
nized, and  should  commonly  be  avoided  :2  the  difficulty 
begins  with  forms  of  class  (b),  as  in  the  examples  given 
above.  Even  here,  neither  Use  nor  underlying  principles 
give  positive  laws,  and  the  prudent  teacher  will  hardly 
dogmatize.  The  beginner  in  Composition,  however,  had 
better  err  on  the  side  of  Purity,  waiting  for  that  best 
guide,  a  mature  judgment  chastened  by  experience. 

121.  But  even  unqualified  aliens  must  be  admitted 
sometimes,  and  in  certain  cases  may  be  admitted  without 
serious  loss,  (a)  Necessary  alienisms  are  ("-)  such  as  have 
no  English  equivalents  ;  ennui,  bric-a-brac,  bokemian  ; 
(|S)  Proper  names;  as,  Rue  dy Enghicn,  Boulevard  St. 
Antoine,  Friedc ricks  Strasse.  (/;)  Admissible  alienisms  are 
(".)  Forms  superior  in  brevity  to  the  English  equivalents ; 
symposium,  coup  d' '  etat,  per contra,  a  priori;  (/S)  words  or 
phrases  added  by  way  of  explanation,  and  which,  by  call- 
ing up  an  additional  notion,  serve,  in  fact,  as  illustrations. 
Thus,  the  French  term  cul-de-sac  is  better  known  than  the 
Latin  cauda  vcrmiformis ;  and  an  anatomist  explaining 
the  singular  appendage  called  by  the  Latin  name,  may  well 
use  the  French  word  by  way  of  illustration.  In  all  such 
cases,  however,  care  must  be  taken  that  the  alienism  used  in 
illustration  is  better  known  than  the  term  to  be  explained. 

1 1  119,  above.  s  Cut  see  ji  121,  below. 


STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL 

OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURfYitf.G  E.LES      -•-§*,.   ■ 

122.  "No  man  of  sense, "  says  Mr.  Oliphant,1  "can 
object  to  foreign  words  coming  into  English  of  late  years, 
if  they  unmistakably  fill  up2  a  gap.  Our  hard-working 
fathers  had  no  need  of  the  word  ennui;  our  wealth,  ever 
waxing,  has  brought  the  state  of  mind  ;  so  France  has 
given  us  the  name  for  it.  The  importer  who  '  introduced' 
the  French  prestige,  is  worthy  of  all  honour,  for  this 
word  supplied  a  real  want.  Our  ships  sail  over  all  seas ; 
English  is  the  language  of  commerce  ;  we  borrow,  and 
rightly  so,  from  the  uttermost  shores  of  the  earth  ;  from 
the  Australians  we  took  kangaroo ;  and  the  great  Burke 
uses  taboo,  which  came  to  him  from  Otaheite. ' '  Plunder 
belongs  to  the  Thirty  Years'  War ;  loot  to  the  Indian 
Mutiny  ;  bummer  (formerly  marauder)  to  the  War  of  the 
Rebellion  ;3  assassin  to  the  Crusades. 

123.  The  following  tests,  if  not  too  rigidly  applied, 
will  guide  the  student  in  forming  safe  opinions  on  this 
1  subject. 

124.  (1)  Careful  editors  commonly  print  undoubted 
alienisms  in  italics.  Hence,  if  a  foreign  word  is  not  so 
printed  in  a  well-edited  book,  the  presumption  is  that  it 
has  been  naturalized.  For  example,  apropos  and  connois- 
seur are  both  in  ordinary  type  ("  Roman")  in  a  fine  edi- 
tion of  Middlemarch  ;  and  no  one  need  be  surprised,  there- 
fore, to  learn  that  apropos  is  as  old  as  Dryden.  But  the  test 
not  infrequently  fails.  The  same  edition  of  Middlemarch 
prints  connosccnti  ( Italian  for  connoisseurs)  in  Roman  ;  but 
this  is  probably  an  oversight.  On  the  other  hand, 
though  aquarium  is  familiar  enough  as  an  English  word, 
both  Webster  and  Worcester  print  it  in  italics,  as  they 
do  the  less  familiar  aqua  vitce,  aquafortis,  etc. 

125.  (2)  If  a  foreign  form  will  bear  English  inflections. 
or  submit  to  English  modes  of  syntax,  the  presumption 
is  yet  stronger  in  its  favor.  Thus,  adieus  would  indicate 
that   adieu  had  been  thoroughly  naturalized  ;    adieux, 

1  Standard  English,  p.  33S.  =  g  195  (2),  below.  3  Oliphant,  pp.  33s,  339. 

6 


82  STYLE. 

that  it  was  still  a  French  word,  only  resident  in  English. 
The  old  double  plurals  cherubims  and  scraphims  show 
not  only  that  cherubim  and  seraphim  were  fully  natural- 
ized in  England  three  hundred  years  ago,  but  that  their 
plural  quality  had  been  either  utterly  forgotten  or  never 
understood.  The  adverb  naively  speaks  volumes  for  the 
truly  English  character  of  naive,  but  naivete  indicates 
that  naive  has  not  yet  given  birth  to  an  English  noun. 

126.  (3)  Foreign  forms  intelligible  to  the  average 
reader  of  English  have  presumably  been  anglicized ; 
those  that  are  known  only  "by  sight"  are  probably  still 
in  waiting.  Thus,  physique,  protege,  chaperon,  are  pre- 
sumably adopted  words ;  au  rcvoir,  tete-a-tete,  double 
entendre,  are  perhaps  still  outside  the  pale. 

127.  These  principles  determine  also  the  pronunciation 
of  foreign  words,  (a)  Naturalized  forms  have  the  Eng- 
lish sounds  of  their  letters  ;  (b)  words  that  have  left  their 
foreign  moorings,  but  have  not  yet  found  full  harbor  in 
English,  have  either  their  native  or  their  English  sounds  ; 
(r)  unquestioned  aliens  retain  their  foreign  pronunciation 
as  far  as  this  is  possible  for  English  organs  of  speech. 

Thus,  (a)  Paris  (not  Pd-rce),  Versailles  (not  Vare-sigh), 
Vicuna  (not  Vee,-ane),  Ber-lin  (not  Bare-leen),  Munich  (not 
JlPinchen),  Columbus  (not  Colombo).  Some  such  words  have 
been  translated  as  well  as  imported, — for  example,  the  family- 
names  Smith  (for  the  German  Schmidt)  and  Carpenter  (for  Zim- 
mermann) ;  while  not  a  few  have  been  translated  in  Bottom  the 
weaver's  sense, — sapsago  for  the  German  schabzieger,  sickly- 
gully  for  the  Indian  sakri-gali  (sacred  pass),  Sir  Roger  Doivler 
for  Siradzhu-d-daula,  Peter  Gozver  for  Pythagoras  (via  the 
French  Pylagore).1  (b)  Miller  (quite  as  often  Mtil-ler  or 
Millers  with  the  German  it),  Hbfmann  (not  often  distinguished 
from  Hoffman),  Hi-mal-ya  or  Him-a-la-ya.  (c)  Gotlingen, 
Moliere,  Goethe?  Corneille. 

1  Haldeman,  Etymology,  p.  30. 

2  However  well  known  a  word  may  be,  an  impossible  or  difficult  sound  will 
long  prevent  its  naturalization.  Had  Goethe  admitted  of  translation,  it  would 
doubtless  have  been  adapted  long  ago. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  83 

127a.  Foreign  languages  are  now  so  common  an  acquisition 
(and  affectation  so  common  a  fault),  that  special  care  is  often 
needed  not  to  sacrifice  unnecessarily  the  English  sounds  where 
these  are  preferable.  Dr.  Joseph  Thomas's  rules,  {Lippincott ' s 
Gazetteer  of  the  World,  Introduction,  and,  more  briefly,  Web- 
ster's Dictionary  with  Supplement,  Appendix),  furnish  an  excel- 
lent guide  through  the  many  intricacies  of  this  subject. 

1 28.  Many  provincialisms  are  archaisms  that  have  sur- 
vived in  a  non-literary  dialect  ;  as  traditions  or  customs 
die  out  but  slowly  in  families  that  mingle  but  little  with 
the  world.  Such  are  poke,  while,  guess,  right  (as  an 
adverb),  and  many  more.  They  are  often  cf  purer  stock 
than  the  words  that  have  replaced  them. 

129.  Technical  terms  are  sometimes  not  only  not  ob- 
jectionable, but  actually  preferable  to  other  words.  In 
professional  language,  in  didactic  works  of  all  kinds,  even 
in  other  prose,  they  can  often  be  replaced  only  by  absurd 
circumlocutions  ;  while,  in  poetry,  the  peculiarly  poetic 
words  lend  no  small  part  of  the  special  charm  of  that 
kind  of  writing.  Thus,  a  doctor  of  medicine,  address- 
ing a  County  Medical  Society,  may  properly  write, 
"The  conditions  under  which  regular  astigmatism  may 
develop  are :  progressive  myopia,  with  and  without 
spasm  of  accommodation — spasm  of  accommodation  in  an 
emmetropic,  myopic,  and  hypcropic  eye."  Should  he 
substitute  non-professional  language  for  the  italicized 
words  in  this  short  passage,  he  would  simply  waste  his 
own  and  his  hearers'  time.  Even  a  technical  definition  of 
regular  astigmatism  requires  many  words, — "  that  form 
of  asymmetry  of  the  cormea,  in  which  the  curvature  of  the 
latter  is  different  in  the  different  mcridinal  planes;"  and 
this,  if  expanded  for  lay  readers  by  the  writing  of  its  tech- 
nical terms  in  non-technical  language,  would  grow  much 
longer.  In  treatises  intended  to  give  instruction,  the 
only  restriction  upon  technicalities  is  that  they  shall  not 
be  used  without  full  explanation  ;  and,  even  in  ordinary 


84  STYLE. 

language,  the  law  of  intelligibility  once  satisfied,  much 
that  is  technical  may  pass  without  challenge.  In  truth, 
as  Whately  pointed  out  long  ago,  ' '  technical  terms  are  a 
part  of  language, ' '  and  the  argument  against  the  techni- 
cality may  easily  be  made  to  prove  too  much, — "the 
uselessness  of  language  altogether."1  Indeed,  in  one 
sense  all  language  is  technical,  since  it  depends  for  its 
usefulness  upon  the  common  understanding  of  its  many 
sounds,  words  and  phrases,  constructions,  etc.  These 
are  but  signs  of  the  things  intended  to  be  under- 
stood ;  and  they  have  value  as  language  only  when  and 
so  far  as  they  are  correctly  interpreted  by  the  hearer  or 
reader.  Professional  diction,  then,  is  simply  a  body  of 
signs,  the  meaning  of  which  is  known  to  but  a  limited 
portion  of  the  people  that  use  the  language  ;  and  in  this, 
of  course,  it  differs  vitally  from  non-technical  speech  ;  but 
in  the  one  respect  named  it  is  certainly  not  unlike  every- 
thing else  in  language. 

130.  The  same  argument  (with  a  slightly  different 
application)  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  young  Englishman 
by  a  writer  whose  style,  quite  as  much  as  the  subject- 
matter  of  her  works,  has  placed  her  in  the  front  rank  of 
English  novelists  ; — 2 

"  Are  you  beginning  to  dislike  slang,  then?  "  said  Rosamond, 

with  mild  gravity.3 

"Only  the  wrong  sort.     All  choice  of  words  is  slang.     It 

makes  a  class. ' ' 4 

"There  is  correct  English  :  that  is  not  slang." 

' '  I  beg  your  pardon  :  correct  English  is  the  slang  of  prigs 

who  write  history  and  essays.     And  the  strongest  slang  of  all  is 

the  slang  of  poets." 

"  You  will  say  anything,  Fred,  to  gain  your  point." 

"Well,  tell  me  whether  it  is  slang  or  poetry  to  call  an  ox  a 

leg-plaiter." 

^Elements,  §  4.  2  George  Eliot,  Middlemarch,  ch.  xi. 

3  Rosamond  addresses  her  brother  Fred,  just  home  from  Oxford. 
+  1  109,  above. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  85 

"Of  course  you  can  call  it  poetry  if  you  like." 

"Aha,  Miss  Rosy,  you  don't  know  Homer  from  slang.     I 

shall  invent  a  new  game  :  I  shall  write  bits  of  slang  and  poetry 

on  slips,  and  give  them  to  you  to  separate." 

3.  Violations  of  Present  Use. 

131.  Violations  of  Present  Use  are  (i)  Archaisms, 
forms  that  have  entirely  passed  out  of  Good  Use;  (2) 
Neologisms,1  forms  that  have  not  yet  come  into  Good 
Use.     For  example  ; — 

(1)  Archaisms  :  holden,  proven,  gotten,  and  other  participles 
in  -en  that  have  more  modern  forms,  received,  praised,  etc.  (for 
received,  prais'd,  etc.),  a-men,  can't,  basket  (with  the  Italian  a),2 
maker  (for poet)3,  the  more  part,4  bo w-pot  (for  bouquet)5,  dixon- 
ary,b  yoops,b  the  "Roman"  pronunciation  of  words  derived 
from  the  Latin,  the  fourteenth  century  pronunciation  of  Chaucer, 
and  the  Elizabethan  sounds  of  the  letters  for  Shakspere.6 

(2)  Neologisms  :  vic-wiucss,1  exposition  (for  exhibition), 
vitative,  vitativeness,  solidarity*  to  interview,  to  fully  under- 
stand (for  fully  to  understand  or  to  understand  fully),  to  cable, 

JOr  Neoterisms,  as  they  are  sometimes  called.  But  this  word  is  an  example 
of  the  very  vice  it  names  :  it  can  not  be  found  in  the  body  of  either  Webster's 
or  Worcester's  dictionary,  and  is  given  in  the  Supplement  to  each  without 
citation. 

-  Instead  of  a-men,  (with  a  as  in  fate),  can't  and  basket  (with  the  "  inter- 
mediate "  sound  of  a,  the  sound  that  lies  between  a  in  can  and  the  Italian  a.)— 
The  false  pronunciations  are  also  provincialisms. 

301iphant,  passim.  4  Freeman,  General  Sketch  of  History,  passim. 

5 Thackeray,  /  anily  Fair,  in  initio.    (But  see  §  i6o,  belozt'.) 

6Tlie  practical  point  involved  here  is  simple  enough.  A  Roman  of  the 
Augustan  age  or  an  Englishman  of  the  14th  or  the  16th  century  would  to-day 
be  in  great  part  unintelligible  to  the  best  Latin  or  English  scholars;  and  the 
case  would  be  much  worse  for  "  the  people."  Yet  a  pure  pronunciation  is  one 
that  can  be  "  understanded  of  the  people."  Do  not  these  (so  called)  "  revivals" 
of  sounds  now  gone  forever,  serve  only  to  divorce  the  classic  literatures  of  our 
own  and  other  lands  more  and  more  from  their  modern  readers? 

7  A  "made"  word  denoting  the  vice  of  having  opinions  without  knowledge. 
(John  Henry  Newman,  The  Idea  of  a  University,  p.  xviii.)  Cf.  Miss  Phelps, 
The  Story  of  Avis,  p.  8:  "  This  was  in  the  days  when  young  ladies  had  not 
begun  to  have  'opinions'  upon  the  doctrine  of  evolution,  and  before  feminine 
friendships  and  estrangements  were  founded  on  the  distinctions  between  pro- 
toplasm and  bioplasm." 

8  Imported  by  Kossuth. 


86  STYLE. 

cablegram,  ring  (a  clique),  unwisdom,1  unfriend?  unfaith  (for 
doubt,  scepticism)?  slrecled,3  wordship?  speechpartship,'0  Dr. 
Wattsiness  (for  the  prosaic  in  verse),6  dynamiteur? 

132.  Many  neologisms  have  not  yet  escaped  from  the  quar- 
antine of  the  Vulgarism,  and  many  are  revivals  of  words  long 
since  forgotten.  To  cable  (verb  active  and  neuter)  may  find  a 
lodgment  in  the  tongue,  although  to  telegraph  would,  in  the 
same  context,  have  the  same  meaning ;  but  cablegram  is  an 
unnecessary  and  coarse  hybrid.  Like  to  wire,  it  may  properly 
be  avoided  until  necessity  forces  it  upon  the  language.  So,  to 
gather,  to  catch  on,  (modern  slang  for  to  understand,)  are  wholly 
inexcusable.  "  '  Why  so  much  weep? '  asked  Artemus  Ward ; 
he  little  knew  that  he  was  reviving  the  Old  English  [Anglo- 
Saxon]  wop."s  Forewords  (tor  preface),  maker  (for  poet), 
rime  (for  rhyme),  are  other  examples  of  this  revival. 

133.  Not  all  archaisms  are  objectionable.  When  "a 
word  or  phrase  has  been  supplanted  by  something  less 
apt,  but  has  not  become  unintelligible, "  9  it  is  certainly 
preferable  to  the  newer  word.  Not  only  may  it  be  used  ; 
it  should  be  chosen  rather  than  the  usurper. 

(II.)  Violations  of   Purity  with   Reference  to 
the  Departments  of  Grammar. 

134.  Of  the  three  departments  of  Grammar  named 
above,10  Etymology  treats  of  words  or  phrases  as  such, 
Syntax  of  their  construction,  Lexicography  of  their  mean- 
ing. Offences  against  Etymology  are  named  Barbar- 
isms,^ against  Syntax  Solecisms?'1  against  Lexicography 

1  A  revival  in  new  meanings  of  old  words.  Utnvisdom  meant  ignorance ; 
unfriend,  ene?ny:  now  the  words  correspond,  respectively,  to  the  adjectives 
unwise  and  unfriendly.    Shakspere  uses  unfriended  in  the  sense  of  friend/ess. 

2  Poetic.  3Howells.  4 Grant  White.  6  Earle,  Philology. 
6  Lowell,  Among  My  Books,  II.  202. 

'Recent  newspapers. — A  French  word,  coined,  apparently,  to  name  that  class 
of  Irish  conspirators  against  England  who  use  dynamite  in  terrorem.  It  is 
not  only  a  neologism,  therefore,  but  an  alienism  and  a  hybrid  as  well.  (See 
g  141,  below.')    Dynamite-fiend  \s  certainly  more  expressive. 

801iphant,  p.  332.  9  Lowell,  Among  My  Books,  II.  195.  10g  104. 

11  The  Greeks  called  every  one  whose  language  they  could  not  understand  a 
barbarian . 

12  The  city  of  Sdli  in  Asia  Minor  was  notorious  for  its  bad  Greek. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  87 

Improprieties.  Hence,  Barbarisms  are  unauthorized 
words  or  phrases,  Solecisms  unauthorized  constructions ; 
Improprieties  words  or  phrases  used  in  unauthorized 
meanings. 

135.  For  English,  this  has  been  well  stated  by  Dr. 
Campbell: — "Pure  English  implies  three  things  ;  first, 
that  the  words  be  English  ;  secondly,  that  their  construc- 
tion be  in  the  English  idiom  ;  thirdly,  that  they  be  used 
in  the  precise  meaning  which  custom  has  affixed  to  them. 
Accordingly,  Purity  may  be  injured  in  three  ways.  The 
words  may  not  be  English, — the  fault  called  Barbarism; 
their  construction  may  not  be  in  the  English  idiom, — 
solecism ;  the  words  or  phrases  may  not  be  used  in  their 
English  meaning, — Impropriety.'''' l 

1.  Barbarisms. 

136.  Barbarisms  have  been  sub-divided  into  (i)  Radi- 
cal words  and  phrases,  (2)  Inflections,  (3)  Derivatives, 
(4)   Compounds.'     For  example  ; — 

(1)  Radical  words  and  phrases  :  Skedaddle,  gopher-holc, 
bummer*  enthuse,  donate,  szvosh,*  zuellness,  to  bant,  casuality, 
collaborator,''  to  plaque*  audition,"1  audient*  archaist9,  or  anti- 

1  Bk  II.  ch.  Hi. — The  quotation  is  modernized  and  much  condensed.  Often 
the  thought  alone  remains. 

2 Day,  \  289. — (See  §  137,  below.)  Compounds  are  composed  of  two  or  more 
entire  words, — horse-car,  railroad-station;  derivatives,  of  entire  words  and 
affixes, — as  hardly,  untruthful,  archbishoprick.  But  affixes  were  originally 
independent  words;  and  to  the  scientific  etymologist  compounds  and  deriva- 
tives seem  hardly  separable.     (Haldeman,  Outlines  of  Etymology,  p.  26.) 

3  Perhaps  from  the  verb  bum,  to  make  a  loud  noise ;  the  bummer  being  often 
an  empty  braggart  as  well  as  a  good-for-naught. 

4  Ayres,  s.  v.  The  word  was  made  by  Mr.  Ayres  apparently  to  scarify  Emer- 
son with.     One  might  guess  in  vain  for  its  etymology. 

6  An  imitation  of  the  French  collaborateitr.    Why  not  fellow-workman? 

6  The  noun  is  still  alien  ;  to  make  a  verb  of'it  seems  scarcely  decent. 

7  A  term  invented  by  the  spiritualists. 

8  Mrs.  Browning  (as  cited  in  Worcester's  Supplement). 


88  STYLE. 

quitarian1  (for  antiquary),  aspirator?  antipharmic  (for  antidotal), 
anywhen?  tclcgrammic  (for  curt,  brief),  solfamization  (for 
solfaing) . 

(2)  Inflections:  bet  (for  the  preterite  beat),  hct  (for  heated), 
the  King  his  crown,  done,  come  (and  other  perfect  participles 
for  the  corresponding  preterites),4  went  (and  other  preterites 
for  perfect  participles),*  hisself,  theirselves  (for  himself,  them- 
selves)* ennuyi  (for  ennuicd),'0  to  taken,  to  washen  (and  other 
infinitives  in  -en)*  takened,  washened  (for  took,  washed,  as  if 
taken  were  present  indicative),4  acceptant,  admirant  (and  other 
participles  in  -ant  instead  of  -ing),  cherubims,6  omnibi,"1  Scipii? 
roslrae,1  and  many  other  equally  absurd  plurals,  son-in-laws, 
son's-in-law,  ajfiesdavit.1 

(3)  Derivatives  :  matriculant  (for  matriculate),  illy  (for  ill 
as  adverb),  firstly,  lastly  (for  first,  last),8  direful  (for  dire),  pre- 
sumptive (for presumptuous), preventative  (for  preventive) ,9 pre- 
sentive  (for presentative),9  rendition  (for  rendering),  jeopardize 
(for  jeopard). 

(4)  Compounds  :  Health-Board,  life-work,  stand-point,  self- 
affairs  (for  one's  own  affairs),  self-evidence  (evidence  that 
carries  conviction  with  itself),  self-practice  (practice  without  a 
teacher),10  words-no- words,11  calves-feet  jelly,  white-teethed1'1 
brakeman  (for  brakesman). 13 

1  Milton,  Of  Reformation  in  England,  Bk.  I. 

2  Probably  so  called  from  its  frequent  uce  in  helping  the  breathing. 
3De  Quincey  (as  cited  in  Worcester's  Supplement). 

4  Vulgarisms. 

5 A  laughable  consequence  of  the  importation  of  foreign  inflections  is  the 
common  error  of  writing  the  French  adjective  fade,  tasteless,  insipid,  fade,  as 
if  it  were  a  participle  and  equivalent  to  English /izrf^rf. 

cSternhold,  quoted  by  Lowell,  Among  My  Books,  II.  133.  Addison,  Specta- 
tor, No.  327. 

'Quoted  by  Hodgson,  Errors  in  the  Use  of  English,  p.  83.  Scipiiand  rostrae 
are  inventions  of  Ouida's. 

8  Almost  as  well  write  nextly. 

9The  suffix  -ive  is  added  to  Latin  supine-stems.     C(.  cursive,  penetrative,  etc. 

10Compounds  in  self  have  this  word  as  the  object  either  of  the  other  word  in 
the  compound  or  of  a  preposition  naturally  construed  with  self. 

"Grant  White,  Words  end  their  Uses,  p.  201. 

12Howells,  Italian  J.  >;ii  n   vs,  p.  236. 

13  Both  Webster  and  Won  ester  omit  the  s ;  but  who  ever  heard  of  a  brake  on 
a  railroad  car?  Brakes,  like  t.issois,  tongs,  and  trousers,  (not  to  mention 
another  article  of  dn  :,)goin  pairs.  One  wheel  may  have  a  brake — a  ratchet 
is  such  a  brake — but  wheels  in  pairs  have  brakes.  As  well  write  scissor-grind,  > , 
tong-smith,  or  U  ouser-cutter.  The  singular  of  any  such  word  is  certainly  rare, 
if  it  occurs  at  all  in  good  use. 


OFFENCES   AGAINST   PURITY.  89 

137.  The  classification  of  Barbarisms  here  adopted  seems 
more  logical  than  Campbell's  division  into  "obsolete  words," 
'"new  words,"  and  "good  words  new-modelled."  The  Bar- 
barism is  a  violation  of  Etymology;  and  Prof.  Day's  sub- 
divisions rest  on  etymological  distinctions.  Campbell's  sub- 
divisions, on  the  contrary,  are  unsystematic  as  well  as  illogical ; 
for  "good  words  new  modelled"  are  only  one  kind  of  "new 
words." 

138.  Mispronunciations  and  misspellings  are  special 
forms  of  the  Barbarism  ;  for  the  sounds  of  a  language 
and  the  characters  used  to  express  them  both  come 
under  the  consideration  of  the  etymologist.  For  ex- 
ample, l-tker,  nl-ther,1  dark  (for  clerk),-  ravange  (for 
revenge)?  the  (so-called)  Spelling  Reform,  ra-ownd  (for 
round),"  dooty  (for  duty)*  laughin,  etc.  (for  laughing, 
etc.)"  uv  (for  of-  ov),"  would  uv  or  ov  (for  would  have)," 
many  compressions  of  words  (as  worshpful  for  zvor- 
shipful),  unnecessary  extensions  (as  de-mon-stra-tor  for 
demuustralur). 

139.  Compound  words,  though  natural  to  all  lan- 
guages and  most  abundant  in  older  English,  have  not 
been  numerously  added  to  the  English  of  more  recent 
times  ;  and  new  compounds  are  now  regarded  with  sus- 
picion. The  entire  history  of  language  (as  is  well 
known)  exhibits  word-making  as  a  most  important  factor 
in  the  growth  of  human  speech  ;  Elizabethan  English 
was  absolutely  prolific  in  compounds  ;  but  recent  Eng- 

1  Wrong  both  by  analogy  and  by  the  usage  of  an  overwhelming  majority  in 
England  as  well  as  in  America.  Ei  has  the  sound  of  i  in  only  three  words, 
sleight,  height,  and  heighten.  In  all  other  words,  it  is  either  e  or  a,  or  else 
has  the  peculiar  sound  heard  m  foreign. — "  An  affectation,"  says  Grant  White, 
"and,  in  this  country,  a  copy  of  a  second-rate  British  affectation."  Recently, 
a  shibboleth  of  fashionable  society. 

2  Indefensible  in  America,  whatever  may  be  true  of  it  in  England. 
3Ascribed  to  Henry  Irving,  but  probably  onlya  stage  mannerism,  if  his  at  all. 
4Vulgarisms. 

6  The  00  sound  is  correct  after  "the  sound  of  sh  or  zh,"  and  (according  to 
most  orthcepists)  "when  u  is  preceded  by  r'm  the  same  syllable."  [Webster 
(1864),  11 29  ff,  p.  xliii.]    In  other  cases,  a  slight  i  or y  sound  is  heard  before  the  u. 


90  STYLE. 

lish,  while  it  retains  many  old  words  of  the  class,  seems 
anxious  to  renounce  its  privilege  of  making  new  com- 
pounds,   except   in    poetry.       For   example,   Shakspere 
combined   not   only   nouns,   but   adverbs,   prepositions, 
verbs,  and  even  whole  phrases.       Wind-changing,  giant- 
rude,   steep-up,   back-return,    after-supper,  falling-from 
{defection),  carry -tale,  find-faults,  always-wind-obeying ; 
ten-times-barrcd-up,  to  winter-ground  {to  bury  in  winter?) 
odd-even  (that  darkest  time  of  night  when  one  can  not 
distinguish  odd  from  even  ?)  are  a  few  of  his  list.1     Even 
bilingual  compounds  were  made, — words  in  which  the 
components  are  drawn  from  different  sources,  but  mean 
the  same  thing  ;  as,  Spenser's  readie  prest  (French  pret), 
the  common  butt-end,  etc.2     Shakspere' s  weird  sisters  in 
Macbeth  is  really  a  compound  {fate- sisters),  though  it  is 
usually  written  as  a  phrase.      But  very  recent   English 
has   little   or   nothing   to   match  with  these    examples. 
Such  older  compounds  as  halcyon-days,  college-stude?it, 
sea-shore,    milk-house,   etc.,   remain   in   good   use;    but 
they  tend  more  and  more  strongly  to  drop  the  hyphen 
and  become  phrases,  as  winter  solstice,  autumn  storms, 
and  many  other  compounds  have  done.     Tennyson  may 
write   seeming -wanton   and  tcndcr-pencilV  d  in  a  single 
stanza  of  the  In  Memoriam;*  but  Health- Board  belongs 
to  the  newspapers,  and  life-work   can   not,  perhaps,  be 
defended  by  a  single  author  of  the  first  rank.     On  the 
other   hand,   many    words,   formerly    compounds,   have 
completely  coalesced,  till  now  they  are  scarcely  distin- 
guishable from   integral  words  ;  as,  railroad,  doughnut, 
tramway,  hillside,  and  many  others.      A  few,  however, 
as  horse-car,  school-boy,  are  kept  apart  by  the  evident 
integrity  of  their  components  ;  though  this  reason  might 
hold  as  well  in  many  cases  of  complete  combination. 

1  E.  A.  Abbott,  A  Shakespearian  Grammar,  $  429-435. 

2  Cf.  the  tautologies  aid  and  abet,  act  and  deed,  null  and  void,  acknowledge 
and  confess,  etc.  (But  see  §  196  (i),  below.) 

3  Canto  xlix.  3. 


OFFENCES  AGAINST  PURITY.  91 

140.  "Greek,"  says  Mr.  Oliphant,  "has  done  much  in  the 
last  three  centuries  to  keep  before  us  the  fact,  that  English  will 
lend  itself  readily  to  high-sounding  compounds.  Old  Chapman 
long  ago  set  us  on  the  right  tack;  Milton  followed ;  and  our 
boys  at  school  talk  glibly  of  wide-swaying  Agamemnon  and 
swift-footed  Achilles."  But  all  this  is  as  archaic  as  the  school- 
boys wont  and  forsooth  for  the  Latin  soleo  and  videlicet;  and, 
if  Greek  and  Latin  contribute  to  the  store  of  good  English, 
(as  they  undoubtedly  do  when  properly  taught),  both  are  often 
made  the  basis  of  an  English  style  at  once  slovenly,  archaic, 
and  foreign.  The  Germans  have,  no  doubt,  been  wise  in 
keeping  the  power  their  tongue  has  always  had  of  combining 
simple  words ;  and  many  an  English  voice  will  echo  Mr. 
Oliphant's  wish,  "Would  that  we  could  fasten  any  one  of  our 
prepositions  to  our  verbs  at  will !  "  but  the  whole  truth  is  that 
neither  Chapman,  nor  Milton,  nor  even  Tennyson,  can  to-day 
direct  a  prose  writer  in  regard  to  what  compounds  he  shall 
form,  and  that  even  in  poetry  Tennyson  falls  far  behind  Milton 
in  his  use  of  this  class  of  words. 

141.  Hybridism  (or  Hybridity),  the  mingling  in  one 
word  of  elements  derived  from  more  than  one  language, 
is  by  most  nations  accounted  an  impurity  ;  but  English, 
a  composite  language,  has  admitted  many  hybrids.  A 
priori,  mongrelism  in  language,  as  in  race,  offends  not 
only  a  cultivated  (fastidious?)  taste,  but  also  that  sense  of 
the  fitness  of  things  to  which  man  owes  many  a  practical 
rule.  A  mongrel  is  expected  to  be  ugly,  is  adjudged 
unnatural,  and  often  is  both  coarse  and  repulsive.  But, 
in  all  departments  of  nature,  this  a  priori  conclusion  is 
often  contradicted.  Many  hybrid  plants  are  especially 
beautiful ;  and  mixed  races  not  infrequently  show  both 
strength  and  good  looks.  There  is  a  smack  of  arrogance, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  untruth  involved,  in  the  boasting 
of  races  that  have  continually  "married  in."  In 
language,  certainly,  while  many  mongrel  words  are 
intolerable  and  unjustifiable,  many  more  are  not  in  any 
sufficient  sense  open  to  criticism.  They  have  at  least 
stood  the  test  of  use,  they  have  fully  established  them- 


92  STYLE. 

selves  in  the  language,  they  may  be  justified  by  the 
natural  affinities  of  the  languages  uniting  to  form  them, 
and  their  "pure"  equivalents  would,  in  many  cases,  be 
grotesque.  For  example,  naively,  ailment,  talkative, 
martyrdom,  matronize,  materialist,  interloper,  Christmas, 
cupboard,  ostrich,  target,  and  a  multitude  more,1  are 
' '  good  English. ' '  Unfrequent  holds  its  own  with  infre- 
quent; Longfellow  writes  undistinguishable ;2  linguistic 
and  philological  have  never  been  replaced  by  an  equiva- 
lent of  the  German  sprachliche /3  and  its  hybridism  (what- 
ever else  may  hold  the  word  back)  will  never  prevent 
scientist  from  becoming  the  best  English.  So,  matronal, 
though  it  can  be  found  for  matronly  or  matronlike, *  would 
generally  be  accounted  a  purism  ;  and  suprabalance  for 
outbalance  or  guard  du  corps  for  body-guard  would  be 
positively  silly.  On  the  other  hand,  proseeing,  fore- 
vision,  telescribe,  transwrite,  logose,  shortography  would 
undoubtedly  be  monstrous  in  place  of  providence,  fore- 
sight, telegraph,  transcribe,  verbose,  stenography ;  and 
telegram,  much  fought  over  as  derived  from  gramma,  a 
written  character,  instead  oi  g raphe,  a  writing,  would, 
doubtless,  have  had  a  fiercer  battle  to  wage,  had  it  been 
proposed  as  telescript. 

142.  Abbreviated  forms  are  at  first  sight  barbarisms  ; 
but  many  are  in  good  use,  and  can  be  justified  (1)  by 
analogy,  (2)  on  the  score  of  economy.5  For  example, 
cab  for  cabriolet,  hack  for  hackney  coach,  miss  for  mis- 
tress? van  ior  avan t,  penult  for  penultimate  syllable,  have 
long  been  used,  and,  doubtless,  by  multitudes  who  never 
suspected  that  they  were  contractions.  Not  only  do 
they  save  time  for  both  speaker  and  hearer;5  they  have 

'A  long  list  is  given  in  Skeat's  Etymological  Dictionary,  Appendix. 
2Sonnet  I.  prefixed  to  his  translation  of  Dante's  Inferno. 

3  As  suggested  by  G.  P.  Marsh,  Lectures  on  the  English  Language,  p.  53. 

4  Both  Webster  and  Worcester  give  it,  Worcester  citing  Bacon  in  support. 
6  But  see  g  189,  below. 

0  As  a  title :  its  use  as  a  noun  is  a  vulgarism. 


OFFEXXES    AGAINST    PURITY.  93 

numberless  parallels  in  those  crushed  or  crippled  words 
of  all  modern  languages  whose  ancestors  stood  in  the 
full  glory  of  undiminished  length, — in  am,  is,  which, 
such,  words  that  once  boasted  two  syllables  each  ;  in 
mole,  from  moldiwarp  ;  l  and  in  alms,  a  lineal  descendant 
of  eleemosyne.'  In  fact,  when  curt  forms  are  objection- 
able, they  are  so  rather  as  neologisms  or  vulgarisms 
than  as  abbreviations.  It  may  be  inelegant  or  over-new 
to  say  postal  for  postal  card ;  but  the  expression  is  not 
objectionable  merely  on  the  score  of  its  diminished 
length.  The  superiority  of  the  English  and  Continental 
post-card  is  not  in  its  dropping  a  syllable,  but  in  its  avoid- 
ing the  purism  that  can  not  accept  post  as  an  adjective. 
So,  Jive -twenties,  governments,  City  6"  s,  may  smack  of  the 
stock  exchange,  but  they  are  simply  technical  terms  and 
in  so  far  not  amenable  to  strict  literary  rule.  Compo  for 
composition  is  not  unknown  to  the  world  of  artists  ;3  and 
both  it  and  typo  are  technical  terms  among  printers.4 
Chaff  (meaning  banter)  is  from  chaffer;'*  many  Christian 
names  are  shortened,  not  for  shortening's  sake,  but  to 
express  affection, —  Will,  Tom,  Sam,  Rob,  Dickens's 
soubriquet  Boz,6  and  many  more. 

143.  At  the  same  time,  there  attaches  to  most  such 
shortened  forms  a  degree  of  disrepute  that  banishes  them 
from  literary  composition  ;  they  are  new  or  vulgar,  and 
therefore  unfit  for  the   best  use.     For  example,  phi", 

1  Earle,  \  371. 

'Contraction  by  Phonetic  Decay — the  wearing  away  of  words — is  of  course 
different  from  that  by  Abbreviation — the  dropping  of  syllables  from  words  or 
of  whole  words  from  phrases;  but  the  difference  is  in  detail  rather  than  in 
character. 

3  See  a  passage  quoted  from  Eastlake's  Hints  on  Household  Taste  by  Earle, 
Philology,  I  370. 

4  Of  course,  such  forms  are  objectionable  in  purely  literary  use.  (See  §  162, 
below.) 

6  Earle,  I  374. 

cShort  for  Moses,  a  pet  name  of  Dickens's  younger  brother,  and  "  facetiously 
pronounced  through  the  nose,  Boses."  (See  Pierce  &  Wheeler's  Dickens 
Dictionary ',  p.  1.) 


94  STYLE. 

cute,  spec,  specs,  exam,  confab,  hyp  d,  o.  k.,  n.  g.,  Jul, 
'varsity,  bus,  tick,1  glasses,2,  are  either  so  recent  or  so 
contaminated  by  their  associations  as  never  to  have  been 
tolerated.  Gents  and  pants,  says  Grant  White,  should 
"go  together,  like  the  things  they  signify.  The  one 
always  wears  the  other." 

"The  curt  form  of  gent  as  a  less  ceremonious  substitute  for 
the  full  expression  of  '  gentleman, '  had  once  made  considerable 
way,  but  its  career  was  blighted  in  a  court  of  justice.  It  is  about 
twenty  years  ago  that  two  young  men,  being  brought  before  a 
London  magistrate,  described  themselves  as  'gents.'  The 
magistrate  said  that  he  considered  that  a  designation  little  better 
than  '  blackguard.'  The  abbreviate3  form  has  never  been  able 
to  recover  that  shock." 4 

144.  Abbreviated  forms,  whether  authorized  or  not, 
may  be  classified  as  (a)  shortened  words,  (b)  shortened 
phrases,  (c)  first  words  of  phrases.  For  example,  (a) 
incog  (for  incognito),  a  peal  of  bells  (for  appeal),  story  (for 
history),  stress  (for  distress),  mob  (for  mobile  vulgus)  ;  (b) 
seven-thirties  (for  seven  and  thirty  hundredths  per  cent, 
bonds),  post-mortem  ({or post-mortem  examinatio?z) ,  locals 
(for  accounts  of  local  events),  consols  (for  consolidated 
annuities)  ;  (c)  casual  (for  casual  lodger),  arctics,  gums, 
rubbers  (for  arctic,  gum,  rubber,  shoes).  The  last  con- 
struction is  of  constant  occurrence  in  Latin  and  Greek — 
boni  for  bond  homines,  he  barbards  for  he  barbaros  ge — 
and  is  not  unknown  to  even  poetic  English — "  The 
good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones "  ;  "  the  young 
may  die,  but  the  old  must  ! ' ' 

2.  Solecisms. 

145.  Solecisms  are  errors  in  (1)  Concord,  {agreement 
or  government)  ;  (2)  Grammatical  Arrangement,  the 
ordering  of  the  sentence  to  express  grammatically  the 

1  For  ticket,  itself  a  contraction  from  etiquette.     (Earle,  I  334.) 

2  For  eye-glasses. 

3j)  131  (1),  above.  *  Earle,  §  370. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  95 

thought  intended ;  (3)  Grammatical  Propriety,  the  use 
of  the  proper  grammatical  element ;  (4)  Grammatical 
Precision,  the  use  of  the  precise  number  of  words  required 
to  express  the  thought.1     For  example  ; — 

(1)  Errors  in  Concord:  (a)  Nouns  and  Pronouns ; — 2 
An  alumni,  a  dicta,  this  phenomena  ;  such  of  his  titera  scrip/a 
[Uteres  scriptcc,  manuscripts]  as  have  escaped. — If  ye  from 
your  hearts  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother  their  trespasses.3 
— Let  us  study  God's  word  more  diligently,  and  devote 
yourselves  to  his  service. — Everybody  can  ride  as  soon  as 
they  are  born. — I  hope  the  members  of  the  University  will, 
each  as  far  as  lies  in  his  power,  exert  their  influence. — Each  of 
the  teachers  made  their  report. — In  Europe  no  one  marries 
unless  they  have  the  certain  means  of  supporting  their  children.4 
— You  will  live  to  marry  a  better  woman  than  I? — They  trav- 


1  Day,  I  290. — Rhetorical  Arrangement,  Propriety,  and  Precision  are  quite 
distinct  attributes  of  the  sentence. 

-  The  following  specifications  by  no  means  exhaust  the  errors  into  which 
even  good  writers  and  speakers  fall.  Fuller  lists  may  be  found  in  Day's  Art  of 
English  Composition,  Bain's  English  Grammar,  A.  S.  Hill's  Principles  of 
Rhetoric,  W.  B.  Hodgson's  Errors  in  the  Use  of  English,  and  many  other 
similar  works.  Some  of  the  examples  used  here  are  borrowed  from  one  or 
another  of  the  books  named — especially  Hodgson.  Doubtful  cases  may  com- 
monly be  met  by  a  reference  to  general  principles. 

3  Matt,  xviii.  35. — The  confusion  is  in  the  Greek,  notoriously  careless  about 
such  things.  The  Revisers  of  1SS1  write  it,  "  If  ye  forgive  not  everyone  his 
brother  from  your  hearts." 

4  Most  common,  when  the  reference  is  to  persons  of  both  sexes.  His  or  her 
is  even  worse — outside  of  a  law-paper  ;  and  Bain  (quoted  by  Hodgson)  claims 
that  their  has  excellent  usage  at  its  back,  even  when  the  sex-difficulty  is  not 
present.  Fortunately,  several  forms  of  expression  are  possible,  (all  for  every 
or  everybody,  both  tor  each,  people  do  not  marry  for  no  one  marries);  but  his 
may  safely  be  written,  unless  only  women  are  meant.  In  "  nobody  ever  put  so 
much  of  themselves  into  their  work,"  nobody  meaning  Charlotte  Bronte,  her- 
self &n&  her  would  be  the  correct  forms:  when  nobody  means  no  man  or 
woman,  the  natural  principle  that  the  masculine  takes  precedence  of  the 
feminine,  as  both  masculine  and  feminine  take  precedence  of  the  neuter, 
justifies  his.  The  sentence  "  no  man  or  woman  marries  unless  he  has,"  would 
be  harsh;  "men  and  women  do  not  marry  unless  they  have"  would  be  far 
preferable;  but  "No  man  or  woman  marries  unless  they  have "  is  the  worst 
form  conceivable.  A  recent  writer  has  proposed  a  new  pronoun  for  this  use, 
thon  (contracted  for  that  one). 

6  Isabel  Archer,  in  The  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  by  Henry  James,  Jr. 


96  STYLE. 

elled  as  fast  as  him. — Beelzebub,  than  who,1  Satan  except, 
none  higher  sat. — Them  that  honor  me  I  will  honor  ;  and  jhem2 
that  despise  me  shall  be  lightly  esteemed. — Consider  who  the 
king  your  father  sends.— Even  papa,  who  Penelope  told  me 
she  had  seen. — Arthur,  whom  they  say  is  killed  to-night. — 
Francis,  who  fidgets  them  both  to  death,  and  whom  I  was  so 
thankful  was  not  coming. — Saladin,  than  zvhom  no  greater  name 
is  recorded  in  Eastern  history. — He,  who  had  always  inspired  in 
her  a  respect  .  .  .  ,  she  now  saw  the  object  of  open  pleasantry. — 

"  Mont  Blanc  is  the  monarch  of  mountains — 
They  crowned  him  long  ago  ; 
But  who  they  got  to  put  it  on 
Nobody  seems  to  know."3 

God  forbid  that  John  Hawkins's  wife  should  refuse  her  last 
penny  to  a  distressed  mariner,  and  he  a  gentleman  born. — Every 
one  present,  except  he,  guessed  why. — This  did  not  prevent 
John  being  inaugurated  Duke  of  Normandy. — He  earnestly 
protested  against  them  embarking  in  the  enterprise. —  These 
kind  of  books,  those  sort  of  men  ;  this  two  hours,  that  twenty 
miles  ;  *  a  hundred  dollars  are  too  much  for  this. 

(b)  Verbs ; — A  keen  passion  like  vanity,  a  strong  one  like 
love,  or  a  subtle  one  like  that  of  immediate  personal  sway, 
transfigure  the  resolve  of  such  a  nature,  only  so  long  as  they 
may  focus  upon  it. — A  keen  passion  like  vanity,  a  strong  one 
like  love,  and  a  subtle  one  like  that  of  immediate  personal 
sway,  transfigures  the  resolve  of  such  a  nature,  only  so  long  as 
it  may  focus  upon  it. — The  greatest  warrior  of  the  age, 
conqueror  of  Italy,  humbler  of  Germany,  terror  of  the  North, 
contemn.  —  The  crippled  baby,  with  all  his  many  other 
failures,  were  forgotten. — Policy,  as  well  as  fashion,  dictate. 
—  The     amount    of    discussion,    equally    with     the    valuable 

!For  euphony's  sake,  this  philosophically  correct  nominative  is  written 
zvhom.    (See  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  ii.  299,) 

2  Properly  written  they  in  1  Samuel  ii.  30;  but  easily  misread  on  account  of 
the  correct  them  in  the  first  clause. 

3  These  lines,  signed  "Albert  Smith,"  Thackeray  found  in  an  album.  He 
instantly  wrote  beneath  them, — 

"  I  know  that  Albert  wrote  in  a  hurry  ; 
To  criticise  I  scarce  presume  ; 
But  yet  methinks  that  Lindley  Murray, 
Instead  of  who,  had  written  whom." — (Hodgson). 

4  Correct  when  the  idea  is  collective, — this  (space  of)  two  hours,  that  (dis- 
tance of)  twenty  miles. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  97 

analysis,  are. — The  door  of  one  [cell]  is  open  ;  and  within 
stands  two  cloaked  figures.1 — The  game  was  played  out,  and 
the  end  was  come,  as  the  end  of  such  matters  generally 
come? — To  Marat,  and  Danton,  and  Robespierre  are  due 
the  honor.3 — I  learned  from  him  that  not  a  line  of  the 
lectures  were  written.3— I  have  no  feeling  connected  with  my 
general  recollection  of  them,  but  those  to  which  the  combination 
of  good  sense,  wit,  and  genius  naturally  give  rise. — To  be 
active  in  the  affairs  of  one's  native  corporation,  and  in  settling 
controversies  among  one's  friends  there,  are  employments  of  the 
most  laudable  kind. 

The  moody  and  savage  state  of  mind  of  the  sullen  and 
ambitious  man — is  or  are? — admirably  drawn. — Clearly,  the 
moody  and  savage  state  of  mind  ought  to  mean  one  state  of 
mind,  as  the  sullen  and  ambitions  man  means  one  man.  There- 
fore, is  drawn  is  correct.  If  two  states  of  mind  are  intended, 
write  the  moody  and  savage  states  or  the  moody  and  the  savage 
state ;  as,  when  two  men  are  meant,  sullen  and  ambitious  men  or 
the  sullen  and  the  ambitious  man.  But  even  this  apparently 
simple  rule  often  fails.  Thus,  in  the  sentence,  Political  and  social 
science  have  brought  about  .  .  .  ,  the  sense  is  manifestly 
plural,  but  the  expression  singular.  Compare,  The  report  of 
the  President  and  Cashier  are  herewith  submitted. — Such  cases 
may  sometimes  be  relieved  by  repeating  the  noun— political 
science  and  social  science — sometimes  by  placing  the  adjectives 
after  the  noun — science,  political  and  social,  has — sometimes 
by  making  the  noun  plural  and  repeating  the  article — the  reports 
of  the  President  and  the  Cashier — sometimes  by  repeating  the 
article  while  the  noun  remains  singular — the  report  of  the 
President  and  the  Cashier,  that  is,  a  report  made  by  them 
jointly — sometimes  by  other  expedients,  and  sometimes  by 
rewriting  the  whole  sentence. 

On  the  table  there  was  neatly  and  handily  arranged  two  long 
pipes. — There  exists,  sometimes  only  in  germ  and  potentially, 
sometimes  more  or  less  developed,  the  same  tendencies  and 
passions. —  There  and  it  lead  to  many  such  blunders.  Of 
course,   good  writers  use  these  expletives— for  emphasis,  as, 

1  Kingsley,   Westward  Ho!  fed.  1879),  ch.  xxii.  p.  346.     Hodgson  thinks  it 
due  to  the  "bustle  of  composition  "  ;  but  surely  it  is  typographical. 

2  Id.  ib.  p.  49S.     (See  the  next  note.) 

3  Dr.  Abbott  calls  these  faults  "errors  of  proximity"  ;  but  the  construction  is 
really  ad  intellectum. 

7 


9S  STYLE. 

there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  is  inhuman  to  torture  living 
creatures,  it  can  not  be  denied  that  x  is  y  ;  but  both  words  are 
oftener  misused  than  used  correctly.1 

Neither  he  nor  I — am,  is,  are  ? — your  enemy. — Are  is  plainly 
impossible,  the  alternative  construction  requiring  a  singular 
predicate.2  Between  is  and  am,  the  principle  that  the  first 
person  takes  precedence  of  the  second,  and  the  second  of  the 
third,  seem  applicable. 

Congress — has  or  have? — adjourned. — No  pains — has  or 
have? — been  spared.  —  This  or  these? — means. — What— hs  or 
are? — the  news? — The  tongs— stand  or  stands? — by  the  fire. — 
Here  Good  Use  and  Law  are  at  one.  If  the  idea  (the  thought 
expressed  by  the  subject)  is  singular,  the  verb  should  be 
singular  ;  if  the  idea  is  plural,  the  verb  should  be  plural.  Many 
such  nouns,  however,  have  lost,  or  never  had,  the  doubleness 
of  number  that  makes  variation  possible.  Thus,  news,  gallows, 
etc.,  are  now  always  singular,  tongs,  scissors,  riches,  etc., 
always  plural.     But  means,  pains,  etc.,  vary. 

(c)  Non-agreements  and  Misagreements ; — We  have 
described  the  helplessness  of  the  workingman,  whose  lot  being 
cast  in  a  large  city,  desires  to  find. — The  property  which  every 
man  has  in  his  own  labor,  as  it  is  the  original  foundation  of  all 
other  property,  so  it  is  the  most  sacred  and  inviolable. 

"A  happy  lover  who  has  come 

To  look  on  her  that  loves  him  well, 
Who  'lights  and  rings  the  gateway  bell, 
And  learns  her  gone  and  far  from  home  ; 
He  saddens.3" 

Sir  Charles  addressed  the  House  for  three  hours  ;  when, 
being  fatigued  by  his  exertions,  their  lordships  adjourned  to  the 
following  day.  — Being  early  killed,  I  sent  a  party  in  search  of 
his  mangled  body. — England  must  take  every  precaution  to 
defend  herself  against  such  villains,    and,    when  found,    she 

1  In  older  English  there  is  was  used,  like  the  French  il y  a,  with  either  a 
singular  or  a  plural  subject ;  and  the  present  misuse  is  clearly  a  survival.  (See 
J*  128,  above.) 

"Enemy,  not  enemies:  therefore,  am  or  is,  not  are.  Yet  "  quot  homines  lot 
sententice ,"  says  Hodgson  :  "  indeed,  opinions  outnumber  the  grammariansj 
since  "  one  writer  first  "  finds  "  for  am,  and  then,  only  four  pages  later,  "  elects 
in  favor  of "  are.  Day,  (English  Composition,  §  368.  1),  decides  for  "  the  person 
and  number  of  the  nearest"  subject. 

3  By  poetic  license.     In  Memoriam,  viii. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  99 

ought  to  make  an  example  of  them.1 — As  one  of  his  most 
distinguished  pupils,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  will  have  deeply 
participated  in  the  sense  of  an  irreparable  loss. 

(2)  Errors  in  Grammatical  Arrangement:  (a)  Of 
modifiers ; — One  combatant  sustained  a  wound  in  the  arm  of 
no  importance. — The  Moor  seizing  a  bolster,  full  of  rage  and 
jealousy,  smothers  her. — Paid  to  a  woman  whose  husband  was 
drowned  by  order  of  the  vestry  under  London  Bridge. — Erected 
to  the  memory  of  John  Phillips  accidently  shot  as  a  mark  of 
affection  by  his  brother. — The  sale  of  Ford's  Theatre,  where 
Mr.  Lincoln  was  assassinated,  for  religious  purposes. — The 
editor  of  the  Medical  Times  (England)  says  he  dreamed  that  he 
was  in  Winchester  Cathedral  listening  to  an  eloquent  sermon 
on  Christ  cleansing  the  lepers  from  the  reverend  the  chairman, 
in  aid  of  the  funds  of  the  County  Hospital. — Hence  he  consid- 
ered marriage  zcilh  a  modern  political  economist  as  very 
dangerous. — They  followed  the  advance  of  the  courageous,  step 
by  step,  through  telescopes.— The  noble  use  he  made  of  valuable 
patronage  must  sufficiently  exonerate  him  from  the  suspicion 
of  acting  from  interested  motives  in  the  eyes  of  any  candid 
man. — If  the  Westminster  Reviewer  will  read  over  what  we 
have  written  twice  or  thrice  with  patience  and  attention.'2 — This 
house  can  only  be  seen  upon  application. — It  has  been  demon- 
strated that  he  could  only  claim  any  election  at  all,  any 
superiority  to  the  Gentile,  in  virtue  of  God's  calling.— We  can 
only  be  saved  from  our  evil,  so  large  a  portion  of  which  con- 
sists in  our  selfishness  and  isolation,  when  we  confess. — 
The  manufacture  of  china  ware  has  been  practised  in  China  from 
such  an  early  period,  that  tradition  is  even  silent.— I  never 
remember  to  have  heard. — I  scarcely  ever  remember  to  have 
had  a  rougher  walk.— Nearly  or  quite  the  most  remarkable  and 
earnest  and  powerful  article  we  ever  remember  to  have  read. — 
His  last  journey  to  Cannes,  whence  he  was  never  destined  to 
return. — I  am  a  man  also  under  authority.3 — What  wilt  thou, 
queen  Esther?  and  what  is  thy  request?  it  shall  be  even  given 
thee  to  the  half  of  the  kingdom. 

1  Recent  newspaper,  editorially. 

"  The  French  say  such  constructions  "squint;  "  Dr.  Hodgson  says,  "  In  a 
homely  English  phrase,  '  they  have  one  eye  on  the  pot  and  the  other  up  the 
chimney.'  " 

3  Meaning  I  also  am.  (Matt.  viii.  9.)  The  Revisers  have  for  once  bettered 
the  translation  of  1611  ;  but  they  immediately  write  Greek-English  again,— 
"having  under  myself  soldiers,"  instead  of  "  having  soldiers  under  me." 


IOO  STYLE. 

(b)  Of  Balanced  Members ; — And  yet  with  his  simple 
human  smile,  he  looked  neither  like  a  young  bullock  nor  a  gladi- 
ator}— We  shall  take  neither  the  fear  of  things  present  \\ox future 
as  our  standard  in  this  discussion. — With  neither  a  word  for 
the  disloyal  daughter  or  the  gaping,  gossiping  neighbors. — I  am 
neither  an  ascetic  in  theory  or  practice? — The  great  and  noble 
were  obliged  not  only  to  learn  Greek,  but  were  ambitious 
everywhere  to  speak  it. — Every  composition  is  fairly  liable  to 
criticism,  both  in  regard  to  its  design  and  to  its  execution. — 
Mr.  Ris  was  not  happy  because  Nature  had  ordained  it  so  before 
hand*  but  because  .  .  . 

(c)  Of  Connectives  and  Extraneous  Elements ; 4 — It 
can  not  be  impertinent  or  ridiculous,  therefore*  to  remonstrate. 
■ — These  instances  may,  it  is  hoped,  be  sufficient  to  satisfy  every 
reasonable  mind. — Still  she  preserved  her  humility,  hozuever, 
and  shamefacedness,  till  her  crescent  had  exceeded  the  first 
quarter. — It  was  a  case  of  unpardonable  breach  of  trust  and  gross 
disregard  of  official  duty,  to  say  the  least. — A  prudent  general 
will  avoid  a  general  engagement,  generally  speaking,  unless  his 
forces  are  equal. — Five  sets  of  sonnets  may  then  be  distin- 
guished, as  in  the  table. — The  series  of  poems  addressed  to 
his  friend  thus  closes  gravely  with  thoughts  of  love  and  death.5 

(d)  By  dividing  the  Infinitive ; — To  accurately  define,6  to 
have  ever  seen,  to  be  at  once  expelled. 

(e)  By  a  Cross-Construction ; — By  day  my  limbs,  by  night 
my  mind,  For  thee  and  for  myself  no  quiet  find. — Though  I  with 
death  and  with  reward  did  threaten  and  encourage  him. — A 

1  Henry  James,  Jr.,  The  Last  of  the  Valerii,  p.  129. — The  effect  is  that  of  "  a 
pair  of  crookedly  hung  pictures";  but  there  is  worse  mischief  in  the  con- 
struction than  this.  Such  sentences  may  become  ambiguous  or  obscure,  or 
they  may  even  convey  a  false  meaning.  (See  \  321  (/"),  belmu.)  They  certainly  do 
not  say  what  they  mean,  and,  therefore,  are  at  least  in  danger  of  saying  what 
they  do  not  mean. 

2  "  Three  errors  in  nine  words."     (Hodgson  )  3§  321  (e),  below. 
-  Most  connectives  begin  their  sentences  or  clauses  :  these,  of  course,  are  not 

referred  to  here.  Extraneous  elements  are  sentences  or  parts  of  sentences 
involved  in  the  structure  of  other  sentences  ;  as,  The  greatest  of  English 
poets  may — as  Wordsworth pltts  it — have  "  unlocked  his  heart." 

5  Prof.  Dowden  properly  begins  this  sentence  with  Thus:  it  is  misprinted 
here.  In  the  previous  quotation,  however,  he  is  correctly  reported.  (  The 
Sonnets  of  William  Shakspere,  Larger  Edition,  pp.  25  and  33.) 

6  The  adverb  in  this  construction  limits  the  whole  expression,  to  define,  and, 
therefore,  should  not  separate  its  parts.  The  history  of  the  infinitive  adds 
another  reason  why  the  modifier  should  net  be  so  placed. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  IOI 

connection  between  virtue  and  vice  on  the  one  hand,  and  hap- 
piness and  misery  on  the  other. — A  keen  eye  and  a  graphic 
pen  see  and  set  down  for  us  the  characteristic  details. — 
The  unfortunate  foreigner  was  flogged  on  two  following  days 
for  disobeying  the  imperial  mandate — for  not  wearing,  and  for 
wearing,  the  obligatory,  and  the'  interdicted  costumes. — Sepa- 
rated by  mountains  and  by  mutual  fear.1 

(3)  Errors  in  Grammatical  Propriety  :  (a)  The  Posses- 
sive Case  for  the  Objective  with  a  Preposition; — the 
Church's  service,  Utica's  million-dollar  blaze,  God's  love,2  the 
man's  description,  your  fear,3  its  imaginative  terrors,4  in  our 
midst,  true  science  whose  flattery,  a  tale  whose  lightest  word. 

Mr.  G.  P.  Marsh 5  objects  to  this  construction,  because  the 
possessive  case,  whatever  it  may  have  denoted  in  older  English, 
now  denotes  only  possession.  But  the  vice  often  lies  deeper. 
Many  such  expressions  are  ambiguous,  many  misleading.  See, 
for  example,  1  Thess.  i.  4,  your  election  of  God, — a  passage 
almost  always  misunderstood.  When  the  sense  is  perfectly 
clear,  however,  this  use  of  the  possessive  is  correct ;  as,  the 
King's  enemies,  one's  friends,  a  month's  mind  (not  obsolete 
among  one  body  of  Christians,  certaiply),  for  my  sake,  their 
separation,  a  day's  work,  ten  year's  toil.  Brevity,  too,  would 
recommend  these  expressions.  The  objection  to  whose  with 
reference  to  things  is  especially  weak,  viz.,  that  "  the  use  of  one 
possessive  form  for  both  "  persons  and  things  is  "inconsistent." 
No  sufficient  reason  can  be  urged  against  the  use,  and  Marsh 
concedes  that  the  "distinction"  is  "by  no  means  yet  fully 
established,"  that  until  recently  the  best  English  writers  used 
whose  as  a  neuter,  and  that  many  good  authorities  still  use  it  so 
' '  in  certain  combinations. ' '  Bain  declares  ' '  the  rule  that  whose 
applies  only  to  persons"  to  be  "altogether  at  variance  with 
literary  usage." 

•  'Some  writers  declare  unreservedly  against  this  construction  ;  but  it  has  at 
least  one  merit,  brevity.  At  the  same  time,  there  is  no  denying  that  it  is  poetic 
rather  than  prose-like,  and  may  easily  lead  astray.  The  first  and  second 
examples  are  from  Shakspere  ;  the  third  and  fifth  certainly  confuse,  rather  than 
communicate,  thought;  the  fourth  has  something  of  epigrammatic  suq^rise 
about  it,  and  may  be  allowed  occasionally  as  a  deliberate  evasion  of  strict  rule ; 
while  the  last  (from  Gibbon)  carries  contraction  to  its  utmost, — in  fact  equals 
the  Greek  zeugma.  A  master  in  composition  will  probably  have  discernment 
enough  to  use  such  sentences  judiciously  ;  a  beginner  should  ally  himself  with 
"discretion,  the  better  part  of  valor,"  and  seek  intelligibility  at  any  sacrifice. 

2Meaning  man's  loveyo;-  God.  3Fear  of  you. 

4  Imaginative  terrors  inspired  by  it.  5  Lectures,  I.  393  ff.' 


102  STYLE. 

(b)  "Dodging"  Pronouns  in  -self;1 — O,  they  take  the  part 

of  a  hetter  wrestler  than  myself. 2 — Mr.   and  myself. 3 — 

Yourself  arid  many  other  members.4 — They  are  older  than  my- 
self by  twelve  and  ten  years.5 — Willing  and  anxious  to  receive 
yourself  and  Clifford.6 

(c)  "Who  or  •which  for  that,  and  vice  versa ; 7 — He  is  the 
true  Propontic,  which  never  ebbeth,  the  sea  which  taketh  hand- 
somely at  each  man's  hand. — The  first  minister  zvho  waited 
behind  him  with  a  white  staff  now  advanced.8 — The  cock,  that 
is  the  trumpet  to  the  morn,  doth  awake  the  god  of  day. '■'—  Has 
not  your  sister  here,  that  never  disobliged  me,  as  good  a  right 
as  you  ? — Harry  remained  with  his  regiment  that10  was  garrisoned 
at  Brussels. — The  political  transactions  which  terminated  with 
the  death  of  Queen  Anne.11 

(c)  "Wrong  Moods ; — If  Venice  were  blotted  out  from  the 
sovereignties  of  Europe,  it  was,  after  all,  because  Venice  with 
her  own  hands  had  taken  off  the  crown. — If  Keble  was  a 
scholar  .  .  .  ,  if  he  were  exemplary  .  .  .  ,  so  he  was  admir- 

I  That  is,  myself,  himself,  etc.,  the  compound  personal  pronouns,  for  the 
simple  personals  /  or  me,  he  or  him,  etc.,  as  the  case  may  require.  The  object 
of  the  exchange  is  evident,  fty  using  the  uninflected  words,  a  lazy  or  indiffer- 
ent or  ignorant  speaker  evades  the  question  of  case  raised  when  the  inflected 
pronouns  are  used;  and,  though  some  of  the  examples  cited,  can  not  be 
explained  on  this  ground,  it  seems  clear  that  these  examples,  which  are 
extremely  rare  even  in  the  authors  quoted,  are  mere  slips  due  to  the  contagion 
of  a  bad  habit.  The  best  usage  is  overwhelmingly  against  the  abuse ;  histori- 
cally considered — see  Morris's  Accidence,  in  loc. — it  is  absurd  ;  and  the  teachings 
of  Grammar  clearly  condemn  it. 

-As  }'ou  Like  It,  I.  iii.  22. — Nearly  every  other  case  in  Shakspere  can  be 
explained  as  the  intensive  use  with  the  simple  pronoun  omitted,  for  example, 
Myself  am  Naples. 

3 Twice  in  a  short — perhaps  hastily  written — but  published  note  from  the 
daughter  of  an  eminent  man  of  letters,  herself  a  writer  of  fair  fame.  Once  for 
Mr. and  I,  once  for  Mr. and  me. 

4Lord  Beaconsfield.  But,  in  the  same  letter,  "they,  and  you  among  them." 
Yourself  seems  sometimes  to  be  used  for  courtesy.  • 

5  Charles  Lamb,  Essays,  IE  266  (Moxon  ed.)  But,  in  the  next  sentence,  "  May 
they  persist  in  treating  me  as  a  stripling." 

"Hawthorne,  The  House  of  the  Seven  Cables,  p.  157;  but  in  the  mouth  of 
Judge  Pyncheon.     (See  §  160,  belo 

7  In  other  words,  the  co-ordinating  for  the  restrictive  or  defining  Relative, 
and  vice  versa.    (See  a  full  discussion  of  the  distinction,  5§  146  ff,  below.) 

8  What  does  this  sentence  mean?  9 Hamlet,  E  i.  150. 
10 Did  Harry  belong  to  several  regiments  at  once? 

II  Thackeray,  English  Humourists — Swift. 


OFFENCES   AGAINST   PURITY.  103 

able. — If  our  standard  for  man's  and  woman's  education  were 
on  a  level,  if  it  was  the  natural  thing  for  an  intellectual 
woman  to  give  as  much  time  and  energy  to  study  as  it  is  for 
an  intellectual  man. — Politics  would  become  one  network  of 
complicated  restrictions,  so  soon  as  women  shall  succeed. — 

(e)  Wrong-  tenses; — Surely  it  would  be  desirable  that  some 
person  should  be  charged. — I  shall  have  great  pleasure  in 
accepting  your  invitation.1 — I  have  often  thought  that  when 
men  are  intent  on  cards,  their  countenances  show  far  more  of 
their  real  characters  than  when  they  engaged  in  conversation. — 
He  would  have  accomplished  a  great  deal  more,  if  a  different 
principle  of  action  were  substituted. — both  might  win  the 
contest  and  the  palm  divide,  had  not  Cloanthus  thus  invoked 
the  gods.2 — As  we  remember  to  have  heard  a  learned  judge 
declare  that  he  did  not  know  what  an  articulator  was,  we  may 
explain  that  it  is,  etc. — Two  young  gentlemen  have  discovered 
that  there  was  no  God. — I  meant,  when  I  first  came,  to  have 
bought  all  Paris.3 — It  had  been  my  intention  to  have  collected. 
He  was  proved  to  be  bom  in  France. — We  happened  to  be  [or  to 
have  been  ?~\  present. — I  should  like  very  much  to  have  seen  him. 
It  was  his  intention  [before  he  was  prevented]  to  have  introduced. 

if)  Wrong  Auxiliaries; — I  -will  drown,  nobody  shall  help 
me.4 — Shall  you  go,  if  your  friend  disappoints  you  ? — Esther 
said  she  should  go  into  the  king  contrary  to  the  law,  and  if  she 
perished,  she  perished.5 — He  might6  do  as  I  ask  him,  if  he 
would. — This  can  not  be  done  :  the  law  will  not  permit  it.— Can 
I  go?  (meaning,  Will  you  give  me  permission?) 

1  No  one  would  think  of  writing,  I  will  accept  your  kind  invitation. — I  shall 
have  great  pleasure  in  coming  is,  of  course,  correct. 

2  Virgil,  v.  322. — The  thoughtful  translation  of  foreign  languages  has  doubt- 
less helped  to  make  many  a  good  English  scholar,  but  it  has  also  prevented 
the  making  of  many  a  one.  Much  bad  English  is  simply  Latin  or  Cheek  or 
French  or  German  English. 

-  3  But  "  I  meant  to  have  bought  all  Paris  before  I  left"  is  correct.  The  tense 
of  the  dependent  verb  is  determined  by  that  of  the  principal;  and  no  little 
care  is  sometimes  necessary  in  choosing.  Help  often  comes  from  writing  the 
dependent  clause  as  a  principal,  and  then  yoking  it  to  the  other  verb. 

4  A  good  example,  whether  real  or  not. 

6  See  'il  152  ff,  below. 

6  May  commonly  denotes  permission,  can  ability.  But  may  once  meant  to  be 
able,  while  can  meant  to  know;  and  the  old  significations  occasionally  "crop 
out," — "Power  cannot  change  them,  but  love  may;"  "Can  you  swim?" 
(French  savez-vous.)  The  words  are  distinguishable,  however,  and  (in  good 
use)  a.re  generally  distinguished. 


104  STYLE. 

(«§")  "Wrong  Prepositions; — Wounded  from  a  blow  ;  differ- 
ent to  or  than;  in  this  point  of  view  ;  the  light  from  which  they 
regard  it ;  that  church  into  whose  maternal  bosom  she  has  found 
rest ;  that  church  in l  whose  bosom  she  has  fled  for  rest ;  between 
the  several  universities  of  our  nation  ;  over  the  signature  (mean- 
ing under  the  authority,  protection,  etc.,  of  the  signature.)2 

{h)  Change  of  Elements  in  Balanced  Members ; — Those 
who  give  as  well  as  those  receiving. — The  island  of  which  he  is 
a  native,  and  has  lived  in  //all  his  life. — Kossuth,  the  arrival  of 
whom  in  England,  and  the  eloquence  of  his  speeches  in  Eng- 
lish.— This  prevents  their  attending  enough  to  what  is  in  the 
Bible,  and  makes  them  battle  for  what  is  not  in  the  Bible,  but 
they  have  put  it  there."' — To  throw  a  light  across  the  whole 
landscape  bewilders  the  young  traveller,  to  carry  whom  blind- 
fold leaves  him. — Neither  did  I  feel  nor  partook. — China 
being  not  only  the  most  populous  country  in  the  world,  but 
its  inhabitants  are  probably  the  most  dress-loving  people. — 
Whether  this  disaster  was  originated,  or  that  the  inventor 
had  forgotten.— Fuseli  made  this  observation  not  only  in 
reference  to  the  physiognomic  east  of  David' 's  countenance, 
but  his  face  was  also  disfigured  by  a  hare-lip} 

(J)  Preposition  for  Adverb,  Adverb  for  Adjective, 
etc. ; — This  nation,  ofa}\  others,  has  more  to  boast  of. — The  then 
Bishop  of  London. — Damages  for  smoke,  noise,  interference 
with  comfortable  living,  and  otherwise. — He  never  said  any- 
thing to  the  Prince  as  to  where  he  went  nor  how  he  busied 
himself— A  more  settled  and  happier  frame  of  mind.5 

(j)  Comparatives  for  Superlatives,  and  vice  versa; 
— We  would  not  impeach  the  scientific  acumem  of  Drs.  First, 
Second,  Third  and  Fourth,  although  we  have  never  before  heard 
of  either  of  the  latter  three. — Which  structure  is  best,  the  loose 
or  the  periodic  ? 

(4)  Errors  in  Grammatical  Precision  :  (a)  By  Omis- 
sion;— This  melancholy  is  as  bad  [as}  or  worse  than  the  most 
giddy  merriment.6 — Giovanni  dreamed  of  a  rich  flower  and  [a] 

1  In  was  once  used  for  into  ;  but  the  two  words  are  now  fairly  distinguished, 
and  with  reason. 

-  A  useful  list  of  proper  prepositions  is  given  in  Worcester's  Dictionary,  pp. 
xl.  xli.  8Matthew  Arnold,  Literature  and  Dogma,  p,  383. 

*  These  pictures  need  re-painting  as  well  as  re-hanging. 

5 Only  an  apparent  double  comparative,  of  course;  but  happier  and  more 
settled  avoids  even  this  appearance  of  evil. 

°See,  also,  I  .'33,  below. 


OFFENCES   AGAINST    PURITY.  105 

beautiful  girl.1 — The  scowl  and  [the]  smile.2 — A  middle  position 
between  the  Jewish  and  [the]  Gentile  world. — Matthews,  of  whom 
Byron  used  to  talk  so  much,  and  [whom  Jw~\  regretted  so  deeply. 
— The  husband  to  whom  she  had  sold  herself,  and  [by  whom 
she]  had  been  paid  the  strict  price. — The  ideas  which  we  get  or 
[which']  are  given  to  us. — A  volume  of  more  interest  to  me 
than  any  [of her']  book. — Mazzini  did  more  for  the  unity  of 
Italy  than  any  [other]  living  man. — As  serious  in  his  spurts  as 
in  any  [other]  act  of  his  life. — You  will  bear  it  as  you  have 
[borne]  so  many  tilings. — I  never  have  [allowed],  nor  ever  will 
allow  literary  work  to  interfere  with  pastoral.3 — I  never  have 
[attacked,]  and  never  will  attack  a  man  for  speculative  opin- 
ions.3— Their  conduct  placed  them  in  a  position  [in  which]  it  is 
to  be  regretted  an  English  Government  should  appear. — She  is 
a  monument  of  what  a  human  being  is  capable  [of]. — The 
audience  massed  itself  directly  in  front  [of]  and  around  the 
platform. — To  partake  [of]  an  intellectual  pleasure. 

(b)  By  Excess ; — Was  a  daily  spectacle  like  this  to  be  deemed 
a  nuisance,  or  not  rather  a  salutary  and  a  touching  object?4 — 
No  stronger  and  stranger  a  figure  than  his  is  described  in  the 
modern  history  of  England. — Longfellow,  the  poet,  the  scholar, 
and  the  gracious  old  man,  is  dead. — The  face  he  loved  best  of 
all  others. — The  steepest  path  I  ever  climbed  before. — Mr. 
Gladstone,  more  than  any  other  French  prime  minister. — The 
loveliest  pair  that  ever  since  met.5 — The  laird's  death,  though  it 
no  doubt  delayed,  yet  it  was  not.6 — These  I  removed  from  the 
last  edition,  and  embodied  them.6 — The  Bishop  of  Natal  having 
come  to  England  on  a  mission  of  humanity,  he  was  naturally 
asked.7— Some  words  of  our  Bible,  which,  though   they  may 

1  Unless,  indeed,  Hawthorne  meant  that  flower  and  girl  were  one.  "  Flower 
and  maiden  were  different ,"  he  says,  "  and  yet  the  same,  and  fraught  with 
some  strange  peril  in  either  shape." — Mosses,  I.  107. 

2  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables,  eh.  xv. —  Cf.  ch.  iv.,  "  Both  the  frown  and 
the  smile  passed  successively  over  his  countenance." 

3§  233,  below.      4  Lamb,  Elia,  II.  344.    (Moxon  Ed.)    Only  one  object  is  meant. 

5  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  IV.  321. 

6  The  pronoun  is  a  viceroy,  says  Hodgson,  and;  hence,  is  not  needed 
when  the  King  is  present  in  person. 

7  If  the  first  clause  is  a  nominative  absolute,  he  ought  to  mean  some  one  else 
than  the  Bishop  ;  while,  if  he  means  the  Bishop,  it  is  unnecessary.  Cf.  (1) 
Clare  had  to  wait  an  hour,  till,  Lady  Harriet  coming  in  suddenly,  she  [Claren 
exclaimed.  (2)  Clare  had  to  wait  an  hour,  till  Lady  Harriet,  coming  in 
suddenly,  exclaimed.  But  (1)  is  both  awkward  and  ambiguous.  Even  such 
forms  as  Herod  being  dead ,  the  angel  warned  Joseph  seem  rare  in  the  best 
recent  English. 


106  STYLE. 

not  be  .  .  .,  yet,  in  themselves,  they  explain.1 — We  are  in  an 
age  of  weak  beliefs,  and  in  which  such  belief  as  men  have  is 
determined. — The  young  officer  was  a  Corsican,  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  and  whom  people  remembered  as  prominent.2 — 
Are  not  only  offensive,  but  are  repulsive. — More  satisfactory 
to  take  rather  than  to  use. 

NOTE. 

1.  Who,  Which,  and  That.3 

146.  The  distinction  indicated  above  between  who 
and  which  on  the  one  hand,  and  that  on  the  other,  may- 
be briefly  expressed  in  a  rule  : — 

(a)  Use  who  or  which  to  join  to  its  antecedent  clause 
a  statement  coordinate  with  that  clause ;  as,  Yes,  said 
Kenyon,  zvho  {and  he\  sat  on  the  column,  at  her  side. 

(b)  Use  that  to  introduce  a  clause  restrictive  or  defini- 
tive of  the  antecedent  ;  as,  The  Pincian  garden  is  one  of 
the  things  that  reconcile  the  stranger  to  the  rule  of  an 
irresponsible  dynasty. 

147.  Unfortunately,  the  distinction  is  not  observed  by  modern 
writers  ;  but  the  propriety  of  observing  it  can  hardly  be  ques- 
tioned. First,  the  failure  to  do  so  often  leaves  the  sentence 
ambiguous.  Thus,  They  set  up  a  choral  strain, — "Hail,  Col- 
umbia!" we  believe, — which  those  old  Roman  echoes  must 
have  found  it  exceeding  difficult  to  repeat  aright.  [A  choral 
strain  that  the  echoes  found  it  difficult  to  repeat,  or  a  choral 
strain,  and  this  the  echoes  found  it  difficult  to  repeat?]  The 
old  Roman  literature  creates  for  us  an  intimacy  with  the  classic 
ages,  which  [that  or  and  this  ?]  we  have  no  means  of  forming 
with  the  subsequent  ones.     Secondly,  though  something  may 

1  "  Two  viceroys  in  the  same  territory."     (Hodgson.) 

-  But  the  conjunction  is  necessary  when  a  preceding  relative  clause  is 
expressed  or  understood;  as,  "  Guasconti  returned  to  his  lodgings  somewhat 
heated  with  the  wine  [that J  he  had  quaffed,  and  which  caused  his  brain  to  swim 
with  strange  fantasies."  (Hawthorne.)  "She  found  a  tall,  good-looking 
young  man  standing  [=who  was  standing]  on  the  rug,  and  whom  .  .  ." 

8?  145.  (?)  (c),  above. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  IO7 

be  lost  in  variety  by  not  exchanging  the  relatives  freely,  more 
is  gained  in  precision  by  differentiating  them.  The  relative  is 
a  troublesome  word,  because  it  recurs  so  frequently  ;  and  any- 
thing that  can  be  done  by  way  of  making  it  more  tractable  is 
well  done. 

14S.  Elizabethan  English  knew  the  distinction,  and  generally 
made  it ;  but  by  the  eighteenth  century  that  had  nearly  usurped 
the  relative  functions.  Accordingly,  Steele,  in  his  Humble 
Petition  of  Who  and  Which,  prayed  that  these  words  might  be 
restored  to  the  language;1  and  his  prayer  was  heard  so  fully, 
that  to-day  which  is  most  constantly  abused.  If  the  rule  only 
had  no  exceptions,  it  would,  in  all  probability,  be  generally 
adopted;  but  the  many  necessary  exceptions'2  furnish  at  least 
a  partial  explanation  why  it  is  not  obeyed.  The  student  may 
wisely  give  himself  any  trouble  he  finds  necessary  in  order  to 
understand  the  distinction  and  obey  the  rule. 

149.  Perhaps  the  true  explanation  of  this  distinctive  use  of 
who  or  which  and  that  lies  in  the  fact  that  that  is  a  lighter  rela- 
tive than  who  or  which,  is  more  easily  spoken  and  therefore 
more  easily  incorporated  with  the  sentence  in  which  it  stands, 
and  that  for  this  reason  it  naturally  introduces  the  adjective 
clause — a  clause  closely  connected  with  the  antecedent.  Who 
and  which,  on  the  other  hand,  are  more  formal,  less  easily 
spoken,  and  therefore  not  closely  connected  with  their  ante- 
cedents. Hence,  they  introduce  coordinate  clauses.  Several 
of  the  exceptions  seem  to  confirm  this  supposition. 

150.  Exceptions.3 — In  many  cases,  that,  although 
required  by  the  rule,  would  be  intolerable  ;  — 

(1)  After  the  demonstrative  pronoun  that;  as,  What  a  queer 
consciousness  that  must  be  which  accompanies  such  a  man. 
— But  those  may  take  that ;  as,  Those  castles  that  one  sees 
along  the  Rhine.4 

(2)  After  a  preposition ;  as,  In  those  long  days  about  which 
nobody  will  ever  know  anything  now. — But,  the  preposition 

1  Spectator,  No.  78. 

2  \  150,  below. 

»E.  A.  Abbott,  How  to  Write  Clearly,  Rule  8. 
♦See,  however,  Exc.  (8),  below. 


I08  STYLE. 

may  follow  its  verb,  adverb-like,  and  then  the  relative  is  that •  as, 
All  the  vicious  habits  and  practices  that  he  had  been  used  to.1 

(3)  When  separated  from  the  other  words  of  its  own  clause ; 
as,  I  keep  a  being  who,  as  I  know,  has  many  weaknesses,  out 
of  harm's  way. — There  are  many  persons  who,  though  unscru- 
pulous, are  commonly  good-tempered. 

(4)  When  remote  from  its  antecedent ;  as, 

"And  here's  a  prophet  tliat  I  brought  with  me 
From  forth  the  streets  of  Pomfret,  whom  I  found." 

A  poor  woman  that  was  crying  piteously  for  help,  and  whom  he 
at  last  hauled  safely  to  shore. 

(5)  For  variety's  sake ;  as,  A  being  that  was  not  worth  the 
smallest  regard  of  one  ivho  had  so  great  a  work  under  his  care. 

151.  In  the  following  cases,  that  is  often  unpleasant, 
but  may  sometimes  be  used  with  good  effect ; — 

(6)  After  a  defined  antecedent;  as,  His  English  friends  who 
[that?]  had  not  seen  him. 

(7)  With  the  conjunction  that  preceding  or  following;  as, 
Remember  that  the  same  awful  will  of  heaven  which  [that/] 
placed  a  crown  on  his  head,  made  him  dull  of  comprehension. — 
Others  gravely  tell  the  man  who  [that?]  is  miserable,  that  it  is 
necessary,  etc. 

(8)  After  the  indefinite  pronouns  some,  many,  others,  several, 
those,  etc. ;  as,  There  are  many  who  [that f]  can  testify.  Those 
who  think  must  govern  those  that  toil. 

(9)  Other  cases  probably  occur  in  which  a  writer  may  hesitate 
between  who  or  which  and  that;  but,  unless  for  sufficient 
reason,  the  rule  should  have  sway. 

2.  Shall  and  "Will.2 

152.  Shall  and  Will  differ  in  meaning  as  well  as  in 
function  ;  and  their  difference  in  the  one  respect  springs 
from  their  difference  in  the  other.  Shall  once  meant 
to  owe,  and  still  has  that  sense  latent  in  its  ordinary  use : 

1  Addison,  Spectator,  No.  130. — Blair  and  others  object  to  this  construction  as 
harsh  ;  but  no  English  is  more  idiomatic.  It  is  less  formal,  of  course,  than  to 
which;  but  it  occurs  even  with  the  longer  prepositions;  as,  Such  were  the 
prejudices  that  he  rose  above.  It  has  the  especial  advantage  of  allowing  the 
omission  of  the  relative  ;  as,  The  errand  he  was  going  on  was  none  of  In: . 
(George  Eliot.) 

2  3  145-  (3)  (0.  above. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY. 


IO9 


Will  means  to  wish.     Hence,  since  a  man  may  properly 
use  of  himself  a  verb  that  "  implies  debt  or  compulsion," 
but  may  not  in   courtesy  use  this  verb  of  others,  the 
Eno-lish  future  tense  reads  /  shall,  thou  wilt,  he  will,  we 
shall,  you  will,  they  will.     But  the  same  words  are  also 
used   to   express   resolve,  promise,  command,  etc. ;    and 
then   they  read    /  or   we  will,  thou  shall,  he,  you,  they 
shall.     From  this  double  function  springs  a  nice  distinc- 
tion, which  ought  to  be  observed  by  all  good  speakers, 
but  which  is  often  neglected.     The  following  Table,  con- 
densed from  Sir  E.  W.  Head's  little  book,  Shall  and  Will 
(especially  Appendix  H),  will  help  the  student  to  under- 
stand the  distinction  and  to  make  it  in  speaking  or  writing. 
Will,  would,  and  should,  (but  not  shall, )  are  also  used  as 
principal  verbs  ;  but  the  Table  speaks  of  them  only  as 
auxiliaries.     Shall  was  once  the  only  future  auxiliary,  and 
even  now  is  always  used  unless  courtesy  requires  Will, 
(a)  In  Statements — 


Of  the  First 
Person, 


Sh all  fortells ;  as,  I  shall  perish, 
and  never  see  thy  face  again. 

Will  expresses  («)  resolve ;  as,  I 
will  walk  here  in  the  hall,  till 
the  king  please  :  (Ji)  promise  ; 
as,  And  for  thy  humour  I  will 
stay  at  home. 

Will  fortells;1  as,  Bloody  will  be 
thy  end. 

Shall  expresses  ('/)  promise ;  as, 
I  overheard  what  you  shall 
overhear:  (/?)  command;  as, 
Rosaline,  this  favour  thou  shall 
wear.  (;-)  threat;  as,  These 
gallants  shall  be  task'd. 

■Ami,  in  che  third  person,  when  the  subject  is  a  rational  being,  adds  the 
idea  of  intention;  as,  They  will  do  this  (  =it  is  their  intention  10  uo  this.) 


Of  the  Second 
and  Third  Persons, 


no 


STYLE. 


(h)  In  Ouestions- 


Of  the  First 
Person, 


X 


'  Shall  asks  permission  or  direc- 
tion ;  as,  Shall  we  dance,  if  they 
desire  us  to  't? 
Will  is  absurd  ;  as,  Will  we  [  =  is 
it   our   intention  to]   come   to- 


morrow ? 


Of  the  Second 
and 
Third  Persons, 


Will 

or 
Shall 


r 


is  used 
according 
as,  by  (a), 
it  may  be 
expected 
in  the  an- 
swer ;    as, 


Will' the 
a  match  ? 
It  will. 
Shall  they 
see  us? 
They 
shall. l 


(c)  Should  follows  Shall,  and   Would  Will. 
153.  Exceptions. — The  following  cases  do  not  follow 
the  general  rule  ; — 

(1)  A  dependent  clause  whose  subject  is  the  same  as  that 
of  the  principal  clause,  takes  the  auxiliary  it  would  have,  were 
it  principal  ;  as,  The  princess  says  she  shall  stay  to  see  the 
sport.  (She  said,  "I  shall  stay.")  He  wants  not  spirit  to  say 
he'll  turn  your  current  in  a  ditch.  (He  said,  "I  will  turn.") 
Compare,  He  says  he  shall  die  young,  and,  He  says  he 
will  die  young. — But  if  the  subjects  are  different,  the  rule 
holds;  as,  I  hear  they  ?c///  come.  (They  said,  "We  shall 
come.")  Boyet  says  the  King  will  invite  the  Princess  to 
court.  (The  King  had  said,  "  I  shall  invite.")  It  is  ordered 
that  every  knee  shall  bow.  (The  order  was,  "Every  knee 
shall  bow.") 

(2)  Contingent  or  hypothetical  assertions  take  shall  in  the 
second  and  third  persons,  even  when  simple  futurity  is  ex- 
pressed ;  as,  If  ever  (whenever)  thou  shall  love. — Haply  your 
eye  shall  light  upon  some-toy. — I  will  thank  you  (will  wait  to 
thank  you),  when  (until)  your  strong  hand  shall  give  him 
strength.— But  if  the  assertion  is  not  contingent,  the  rule  holds  ; 
as,  By  that  time,  you  will  be  married. — At  the  gate,  you  will 


1  The  meaning  is,  Is  it  your   will,  command,  intention  that  they  shall  see  us. 


OFFENCES   AGAINST    PURITY.  Ill 

light  upon  two  beggars. — She  will  thank  him  after  he  recovers, 
when  her  gratitude  will  excite  him  less. — In  contingent  or 
hypothetical  sentences,  duty,  command,  etc.,  can  be  expressed 
only  by  must  or  ought,  or  by  the  longer  phrases  it  is  one's  duty, 
etc.;  as,  If  you  must  or  ought,  if  it  is  your  duty,  if  you  feel 
under  obligation,  to  go,  I  shall  (will)  withdraw  my  protest. 

(3)  In  official  letters  of  direction,  military  orders,  etc.,  re/// is 
used  by  courtesy  for  shall ;  as,  Captain  :  On  receipt  of  this 
communication,  you  will  proceed,  etc. 

(4)  In  questions  of  the  second  person,  shall  is  perhaps 
unusual  (though  examples  of  it  may  be  both  heard  and  read). 
Shall  you  go  to  New  York  to-day,  has,  of  course,  no  discourtesy 
in  it ;  and  the  answer  would  undoubtedly  be,  I  shall  or  I  shall 
not.  But  between  simple  futurity  and  intention  or  wish  there 
is,  in  such  cases,  so  little  difference,  that  usage  has  commonly 
adopted  Will  you.  The  present  Do  you  is  often  substituted  for 
the  future  ;  as,  Do  you  have  a  chill  to-day  ?  (  =  Is  this  the  day 
for  your  chill,  and  do  you  therefore  expect  it?)  The  following 
examples  from  Shakspere,  and  others  like  them,  take  shall  by 
exception  (2)  ;  as,  What  shall  you  ask  of  me  that  I'll  deny? — 
When  shall  you  see  me  write  a  thing  in  rhyme  ? — The  asking 
and  the  writing  in  rhyme  are  looked  upon  as  mere  hypotheses, 
impossible  in  fact. 

3.  Improprieties. 

154.  Improprieties  are  (1)  Single  Words,  (2)  Phrases. 
Of  course,  those  words  are  most  liable  to  misuse  which 
resemble  each  other  "  in  sound,  or  sense,  or  both  j"1  but 
other  words  than  these  are  misplaced.2     For  example  ; — ■ 

(1)  Single  Words:  (a)  Alike  in  sound  or  appearance;3 
— predicate  and  predict,  officious  and  official,  leave  and  let, 
observance  and  observation,  felicity  and.  facility,  continuous  and 
continual,  decimate  and  devastate.* 

'Campbell,  II.  iii. 

2 See  sub-divisions  (d),  (e)  and  (/"),  below. — "  None  but  those  wlio  are  grossly 
ignorant  of  our  tongue,"  says  Campbell,  can  misuse  "words  that  have  no 
affinity  to  those  whose  place  they  are  made  to  occupy ;  "  but  some  of  the  exam- 
ples given  below  are  cited  by  Campbell  himself. 

3The  words  or  appearance  were  added  by  Prof.  A.  S.  Hill. 

^Decimate ought  to  mean  A<  destroy  a  t  •>////,  but  Webster  defines  it  as  mean- 
ing to  devastate,  and  Worcester  gives  an  equivalent  signification. 


112  STYLE. 

(b)  Alike  in  sense;— reduplication  and  repetition,  all  and 
only  (as,  Her  living-room  and  her  bed-chamber  were  all  the 
rooms  she  had. — Ouida,  In  Marewma,  ch.  ii.),  learn  and  teach, 
lengthened and  long,  eliminate  and  elicit,  verbal  and  #;-«/. 

(r )  Alike  in  both  sound  or  appearance  and  sense ; — 
converse,  inverse,  reverse  and  opposite ;  lay  and  lie  ;  sitzmd  .sr// 
nmv?  and  rise;  replace,  displace,  take  the  place  of,  fill  one's 
place,  supersede,  succeed,  etc} 

(d)  Resembling  in  meaning  their  foreign  equivalents 
or  etymological  primitives ; — apparent  and  evident  or  man- 
ifest? to  exploit  and  to  achieve}  to  ambition  and  to  seek  eagerly? 
noted  and  known*  to  disillusion  and  to  undeceive?  has  reason 
and  is  right}  articulate  and  frame  or  put  together} 

(e)  Misused  for  each  other,  though  not  alike  in 
sound,  appearance,  or  sense; — condone  (=forgive)  and 
compensate  or  atone  for,  constantly  and  frequently,  precept  and 
doctrine,  veracity  and  reality,  spare  and  grant,1  want  and  be  or 
do  without} 

(/)  Blunder-Words ; — insiduous  (by  analogy  with  assidu- 
ous) for  insidious,  demean  for  debase  or  lozuer  (as  if  its  last  syllable 
were  English  mean),  reticence  (as  if  retinence)  for  reserve,  per- 
suade for  advise  (because  Latin  suadere  =  to  exhort),  Chinee  and 
Cyclop  (as  if  Chinese  and  Cyclops  were  plurals). 

(2)  Phrases:  (a)  Absurd,  inconsistent,  or  contradict- 
ory in  meaning ; — Zcra/  /V:-/;^  (items  of  local  news). — Saloon- 
atic  slaughter  [murder  in  a  bar-room )} — The  care  such  an  august 
Cause  [=God]   may  be   supposed   to  take   about  any  action. 

The  unprecedented  impudence  of  B nearly  equalled  that  of 

his  chief  and  master. — The  last  survivor  of  his  honored  pre- 
decessors. 

1  Replace  has  almost  displaced  all  the  other  words  of  the  group.  An  accurate 
writer,  of  course,  distinguishes  them  carefully,  but  many  good  writers  accept 
replace  in  a  vast  majority  of  instances.     (See  Hodgson,  pp.  60-62.) 

2Lat.  apparens. — "  Of  my  uncle's  great  estate  ....  not  the  half.  .  .  .  was 
apparent  [  =  could  be  found?]  after  his  death."  {The  House  of  the  Seven- 
Cables,  p.  279,  Riverside  Ed.) 

8French  exploiter,  ambitionner.  The  English  words  are  marked  "  Obs."  in 
Webster. 

4  Latin  notus. — Shakspere  (Sonnet  76.  6)  and  colloquial. 

6  French.  «  Latin. 

'"Mr.  Macaulay  might  have  spared  a  passing  eulogy."  But  both  Webster 
and  Worcester  give  this  sense,  citing  Roscommon. 

8"  I  can  not  want  it  "  =  I  do  or  shall  want  {need)  it.  »g  115. 


OFFENCES    AGAINST    PURITY.  II3 

(6)  Apparent  only; — God  and  his  Son  except,  Created 
thing  naught  valued  he  nor  shunned.1 — Adam  the  goodliest  man 
of  men  since  born  his  sons  ;  the  fairest  of  her  daughters  Eve.1 

(c)  Rhetorical;  i.e.,  used  to  heighten  the  effect;  —  He 
[  Cerberus  ]  was  a  monster,  with  three  separate  heads,  and 
each  of  them  fiercer  titan  the  two  others.3 — This  made  several 
women  look  at  one  another  slyly,  each  knowing  more  than  the 
others. z 

1  Milton,  P.  L.,  II.  678,  IV.  323. — By  poetic  license  :   not  to  be  imitated  in 
prose. 

3 Quoted  by  A.  S.  Hill  from  Hawthorne  and  Blackmore  respectively. 


114  STYLE. 


VARIETIES    OF    DICTION.      EXCEPTIONS    TO   THE 
LAWS    OF    PURITY. 

155.  Diction  varies  for  the  several  kinds  of  composi- 
tion, and  the  laws  of  Purity  vary  accordingly.  The  diction 
of  Prose  is  manifestly  different  from  that  of  Romance  or 
Poetry  ;  and  even  within  the  limits  of  Prose,  a  wide 
variety  is  both  possible  and  desirable.  A  letter  to  one's 
friend,  for  example,  adopts  a  far  different  style  from  that 
of  the  journal  of  a  traveller ;  the  journal,  a  far  different 
style  from  that  of  a  history  or  a  biography ;  history  or 
biography,  a  different  style  from  that  of  the  scientific 
treatise — even  the  essay ;  and  each  of  these,  a  different 
style  from  that  of  the  oration.  Hence,  errors  in  Diction 
are  neither  so  noticeable  nor  so  blameworthy  in  a  letter 
as  in  a  journal,  in  a  journal  as  in  a  history,  a  biography, 
a  scientific  treatise,  or  an  oration.  The  more  deliberate 
and  exact  the  work,  the  more  stringent  the  laws  of 
Purity.  Further,  a  prose  work  may  have  a  special,  well- 
defined  purpose — satire,  pathos,  humor,  wit ;  and  it  then 
enjoys  almost  a  poetic  license. 

156.  These  statements  are  true,  also,  with  regard  to  Style  in 
its  other  phases, — to  Phraseology  and  to  Style  Proper,— as 
well  as  to  Diction  ;  but  since  violations  of  Diction  are  more 
easily  noted  than  offences  in  the  other  particulars,  especial 
stress  must  be  laid  on  the  truth  in  this  application. 

157.  1.  The  characteristics  of  the  Diction  of  Prose  and 
of  Poetry  have  been  thus  stated  by  Abbott  and  Seeley  : ' — 

(1)  Speech  is  the  Guide  to  Prose.'1 — -"A  man  speaks  in 
a  very  different  manner  according  as  he  is  conversing  at 
the  dinner-table,  or  holding  a  literary  discussion,  or 
arguing  in  a  law-court,  or  addressing  a  public  meeting 

1  English  Lessons  for  English  People,  Part  II.,  chap's  i.  and  ii. 

'-'Certain  exceptional  forms  of  Prose  (g  15S)  are  excluded  from  what  is  said 
here. 


VARIETIES    OF    DICTION.  115 

or  a  congregation  ;  and  every  different  shade  in  speaking 
will  be  represented  in  writing."  "The  differences  will 
consist  almost  entirely  in  the  rhythm  of  the  sentences,  in 
the  use  of  question  instead  of  statement,  of  short  sen- 
tences instead  of  long  ones ;  not  in  -words,  which  will  be 
very  nearly  the  same  throughout.'"  But  (a)  Writing 
is  more  exact  than  speech. — One  can  not  wait  in  speaking 
to  get  the  exact  word  :  in  writing,  one  must  always  do 
this.  The  superlatives  of  conversation,  which  give  it  a 
flavor  and  arrest  attention,  the  similes  that  will  not  bear 
critical  analysis,  the  incessantly  recurring  verys  and 
guiles, — are  intolerable  in  writing.  "A  clever  fellow '! 
must  be  distinguished  as  an  original,  a  thoughtful,  a 
judicious,  a  sagacious  man  ;  a  most  delightful  day  must 
be  described  (perhaps)  more  cautiously  as  ^pleasant,  an 
agreeable  day;  "he's  as  grave  as  a  judge "  becomes 
"  he's  remarkably  sober  in  mien  or  speech  ;"  "it  would 
be  very  improper"  omits  its  adverb.  The  letter  alone, 
of  written  communications,  adopts  the  easy,  inexact 
diction  of  conversation  ;  and  even  it  is  less  inexact  than 
talk,  (b)  Writing  is  less  brief  than  speech. — Contrac- 
tions (don't,  's,  F 11)  are  not  permissible  in  formal 
writing  ;  ellipses  are  not  so  common  as  in  speech  ;  short, 
but  expressive  words — such  as  mob,  bore,  pell-mell — 
must  be  used,  if  at  all,  with  caution.  (V)  Writing  is  less 
varied  in  construction  than  speech. — Speech  naturally 
introduces  "direct  discourse,"  and  shifts  from  this  to 
the  "  indirect  quotation  and  back  again  almost  at  will." 
Compare  the  two  following  accounts,  one  written  by  Sir 
Thomas  North,  a  translator  of  Plutarch,  the  other 
spoken  by  Cassius  in  J alius  Ctesar , — 

"When  they  raised  their  camp,  there  came  two  eagles  that, 
flying  with  a  marvellous  force,  lighted  upon  two  of  the  fore- 
most ensigns,  and  followed  the  soldiers,  which  gave  them  meat 
and  fed  them  until  they  came  near  to  the  city  of  Philippi,  and 
there,  one  day  before  the  battle,  they  both  fled  away." 


Il6  STYLE. 

"  Coming  from  Sardis,  on  our  former  ensign 
Two  mighty  eagles  fell ;  and  there  they  perch'd, 
Gorging  and  feeding  from  our  soldiers'  hands  ; 
Who  to  Philippi  here  consorted  us. 
This  morning  are  they  fled  away  and  gone." 

See,  too,  the  well-known  speech  of  Cassius,  beginning 

"  Well,  honour  is  the  subject  of  my  story  ;  "  1 

and  compare  it  with  the  next  two  speeches,2  which  are 
more  in  prose  style. 

(2)  Poetic  Diction  differs  from  that  of  Prose  chiefly  in 
the  choice  of  words,  (a)  Poetic  Diction  is  Archaic  a?id 
Non-  Colloquial. — Such  words  as  hallowed,  sojourn,  wons, 
for  holy,  lodge,  dwell,  as  thou  and  ye  for  you,  as  e ' er  for 
ever  and  ere  for  before,  as  woe,  blissful,  ke?i,  dire,  ire, 
(words  avoided  in  ordinary  modern  prose)  are  peculiarly 
poetic,  (b)  Poetic  Diction  is  Picturesque. — "  Poetry 
prefers  picturesque  images  to  the  enumeration  of  dry 
facts.     Compare  the  poetry  of  the  following  ; — 

'  The  blackbird  whistles  from  the  thorny  brake  : 
The  mellow  bullfinch  answers  from  the  grove : 
Nor  are  the  linnets,  o'er  the  flowering  furze 

Pour'd  out  profusely,  silent 

The  jay,  the  rook,  the  daw, 

And  each  harsh  pipe,  discordant  heard  alone, 
Aid  the  full  concert ;  while  the  rock-dove  breathes 
A  melancholy  murmur  through  the  whole,' — 3 

with  the  prosaical  or  rather  the  comical  effect  of — 

'  Now,  too,  the  feather'd  warblers  tune  their  notes 
Around,  and  charm  the  listening  grove.     The  lark, 
The  linnet,  chaffinch,  bullfinch,  goldfinch,  greenfinch.'"4 

(f)  Poetic  Diction  substitutes  an  Epithet  for  the  thing 
denoted;  as,  the  breezy  blue,  the  dead  vast  of  the  night ; 
and  ornaments  itself  with  epithets  that  add  nothing  to  the 

1  Julius  Ca'sar,  I.  ii.  92-131. — The  same  liberty  is  used  in  narrative  (history 
and  the  like),  but  more  reservedly. 

2  Lines  135-175.  3  Thomson's  Seasons.  4  Sheridan,  The  Critic. 


VARIETIES   OF    DICTION.  117 

sense;  as,  "His  dog  attends  him  .  .  .  and  snatches 
up  the  drifted  snow  with  ivory  teeth. "  Red  lightning 
and  white  wings  of  a  swan  are  other  examples,  (d) 
Poetry  is  averse  to  lengthiness,  and  [is']  euphonious. — (a) 
Conjunctions  and  Relatives  are  omitted; — "See  that 
y  owe  polished  2xms>  be  primed  with  care ' '  (for  polished  and 
primed).  —  "So  those  two  brothers  with  their  murdered 
man  [the  man  they  intended  to  murder].  (/?)  Length 
without  force,  or  even  length  for  the  mere  purpose  of 
clearness  is  avoided.  Scarce  is  preferred  to  scarcely, 
vale  to  valley,  list  to  listen,  whist  to  be  silent.  (;-) 
Euphony  is  always  considered  ;  as,  Erin  for  Ireland,  the 
Scorpion  sign  for  the  Scorpion  s  sign,  Verona  walls, 
(d)  But,  to  give  added  pleasure,  a  longer  expression, 
construction,  figure  of  speech  is  common  in  poetry ;  as, 

"  I  to  the  world  am  like  a  drop  of  water 
That  in  the  ocean  seeks  another  drop, 
Who  falling  there  to  seek  his  fellow  forth, 
Unseen,  inquisitive,  confounds  itself ;  " 

instead  of  "  I  am  to  the  world  like  a  drop  of  water  that 
falls  into  the  ocean  and  is  lost  there." 

158.  2.  Certain  forms  of  Prose  admit  exceptions  to 
the  laws  of  Purity  : — 

(1)  To  lend  to  satire  an  added  sting,  or  to  render 
pathos  more  pathetic,  diction  may  be  slightly  archaic, 
and  by  this  means  carry  the  reader  back  to  the  times 
portrayed.  The  picture  is  thus  made  real ;  something 
of  almost  poetic  picturesqueness  being  added.  Natur- 
ally, such  archaism  is  not  alone,  or,  perhaps,  so  much 
in  the  words  and  constructions  used  :  it  pervades  the 
whole  style,  and  gives  the  work  a  flavor  of  antiquity. 
For  example  ; — 

"  Here  we  are  all  on  our  knees.  Here  is  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  prostrating  himself  to  the  head  of  his  church,  with 
Kielmansegge  and  Schulenberg  with  their  ruddled  cheeks  grin- 


Il8  STYLE. 

ning  behind  the  defender  of  the  faith.  Here  is  my  Lord  Duke 
of  Marlborough  kneeling,  too,  the  greatest  warrior  of  all  times ; 
he  who  betrayed  King  William — betrayed  King  James  II. — 
betrayed  Queen  Anne — betrayed  England  to  the  French,  the 
Elector  to  the  Pretender,  the  Pretender  to  the  Elector ;  and 
here  are  my  Lords  Oxford  and  Bolingbroke,  the  latter  of  whom 
has  just  tripped  up  the  heels  of  the  former;  and  if  a  month's 
more  time  had  been  allowed  him,  would  have  had  King  James 
at  Westminster.  The  great  Whig  gentlemen  made  their  vows 
and  congees  with  proper  decorum  and  ceremony  ;  but  yonder 
keen  old  schemer  knows  the  value  of  their  loyalty.  '  Loyalty,' 
he  must  think,  'as  applied  to  me — it  is  absurd  !  There  are 
fifty  nearer  heirs  to  the  throne  than  I  am.  I  am  but  an  accident, 
and  you  fine  Whig  gentlemen  take  me  for  your  own  sake,  not 
for  mine.  You  Tories  hate  me  ;  you  archbishop,  smirking  on 
your  knees,  and  prating  about  heaven,  you  know  I  don't  care  a 
fig  for  your  Thirty-nine  Article^,  and  can't  understand  a  word 
of  your  stupid  sermons.  You,  my  Lords  Bolingbroke  and 
Oxford — you  know  you  were  conspiring  against  me  a  month 
ago  ;  and  you,  my  Lord  Duke  of  Marlborough — you  would  sell 
me  or  any  man  else,  if  you  found  your  advantage  in  it.  Come, 
my  good  Melusina,  come,  my  honest  Sophia,  let  us  go  into  my 
private  room,  and  have  some  oysters  and  some  Rhine  wine, 
and  some  pipes  afterwards  :  let  us  make  the  best  of  our  situa- 
tion ;  let  us  take  what  we  can  get,  and  leave  these  bawling, 
brawling,  lying  English  to  shout,  and  fight,  and  cheat  in  their 
own  way.'  "  ' 

"WThat  preacher  need  moralize  on  this  story?  What  words 
save  the  simplest  are  requisite  to  tell  it?  It  is  too  terrible 
for  tears.  The  thought  of  such  a  misery  smites  me  down 
in  submission  before  the  Ruler  of  kings  and  men,  the  Mon- 
arch Supreme  over  empires  and  republics,  the  inscrutable 
Dispenser  of  life,  death,  happiness,  victory.  'O  brothers!'  I 
said  to  those  who  heard  me  first  in  America  :  '  O  brothers ! 
speaking  the  same  dear  mother-tongue  ;  O  comrades  !  enemies 
no  more,  let  us  take  a  mournful  hand  together  as  we  stand  by 
this  royal  corpse  and  call  a  truce  to  battle  !  Low  he  lies,  to 
whom  the  proudest  used  to  kneel  once,  and  who  was  cast  lower 
than  the  poorest ;  dead  whom  millions  prayed  for  in  vain. 
Driven   off   his   throne  ;    buffeted   by   rude    hands ;    with   his 

1  Thackerav,  The  Four  Georges,  George  the  First,  p.  23  (London,  1869.) 


VARIETIES    OF    DICTION.  I  19 

children  in  revolt ;  the  darling  of  his  old  age  killed  before  him 
untimely,  our  Lear  hangs  over  her  breathless  lips,  and  cries, 
'Cordelia,  Cordelia,  stay  a  little  !' 

'  Vex  not  his  ghost, — oh!  let  him  pass, — he  hates  him 
That  would  upon  the  rack  of  this  tough  world 
Stretch  him  out  longer.' 

Hush !  strife  and  quarrel,  over  the  solemn  grave.  Sound, 
trumpets,  a  mournful  march.  Fall,  dark  curtain,  upon  his 
pageant,  his  pride,  his  grief,  his  awful  tragedy."1 

(2)  Many  writers  for  pathos,  wit,  humor,  have  chosen 
a  form  of  Prose  not  inaptly  called  Impassioned?  It 
is  thus  described; — "A  beautiful  prose  (dangerous  to 
imitate)  which  resembles  poetry3  in  having  a  perceptible 
rhythm,  and  [which]  now  and  then  borrows  poetic 
brevity  and  forms  poetic  compounds, — e.g.,  daisied, 
sun-filled, — while  yet  it  never  trespasses  on  the  poetic 
vocabulary. ' '  ~     For  example  ; — 

"  Let  us  watch  him  with  reverence  as  he  sets  side  by  side 
the  burning  gems,  and  smooths  with  soft  sculpture  the  jasper 
pillars  that  are  to  reflect  a  ceaseless  sunshine,  and  rise  into  a 
cloudless  sky  :  but  not  with  less  reverence  let  us  stand  by  him 
when,  with  rough  strength  and  hurried  stroke,  he  smites  an 
uncouth  animation  out  of  the  rocks  which  he  has  torn  from 
among  the  moss  of  the  moorland,  and  heaves  into  the  darkened 
air  the  pile  of  iron  buttress  and  rugged  wall,  instinct  with  work 
of  an  imagination  as  wild  and  wayward  as  the  northern  sea : 
creations  of  ungainly  shape  and  rigid  limb,  but  full  of  wolfish 
life  :  fierce  as  the  winds  that  beat,  and  changeful  as  the  clouds 
that  shade  them."  * 

"It  is  now  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  since  I  saw  the  Queen 
of  France,  then  the  Dauphiness,  at  Versailles;  and  surely 
never  lighted  on  this  orb,  which  she  hardly  seemed  to  touch, 
a  more  delightful  vision.  I  saw  her  just  above  the  horizon, 
decorating  and  cheering  the  elevated  sphere  she  just  began  to 
move  in, — glittering  like  the  morning  star,  full  of  life,  and 
splendor,  and  joy.  Oh  !  what  a  revolution  !  and  what  an  heart 
must  I  have,  to  contemplate  without  emotion  that  elevation  and 

1  The  Four  Georges,  George  the  Third,  p.  96.  s  English  Lei.  tons,  II.  ii. 

8  Verse,  rather.     (See  5?  36,  68,  above.)  4  Ruskin. 


120  STYLE. 

that  fall !  Little  did  I  dream  when  she  added  titles  of  venera- 
tion to  those  of  enthusiastic,  distant  love,  that  she  should  ever 
be  obliged  to  carry  the  sharp  antidote  against  disgrace  concealed 
in  that  bosom  ;  little  did  I  dream  that  I  should  have  lived  to 
see  such  disasters  fallen  upon  her  in  a  nation  of  gallant  men,  in 
a  nation  of  men  of  honor  and  of  cavaliers.  I  thought  ten 
thousand  swords  must  have  leaped  from  their  scabbards  to 
avenge  even  a  look  that  threatened  her  with  insult.  But  the 
age  of  chivalry  is  gone.  That  of  sophisters,  economists,  and 
calculators,  has  succeeded,  and  the  glory  of  Europe  is  extin- 
guished for  ever.  Never,  never  more  shall  we  behold  that 
generous  loyalty  to  rank  and  sex,  that  proud  submission,  that 
dignified  obedience,  and  that  subordination  of  the  heart,  which 
kept  alive,  even  in  servitude  itself,  the  spirit  of  an  exalted 
freedom."  * 

(3)  With  the  same  ends  in  view,  but  transgressing  the 
utmost  limits  of  proper  Prose  by  using  poetic  words  as 
well  as  poetic  brevity  and  poetic  compounds,  certain 
authors, — Lamb,  Coleridge,  De  Ouincey,  for  example, — 
have  written  an  exceptional  prose,  the  more  dangerous 
to  imitate  than  the  prose  just  exemplified,  the  more 
nearly  it  approaches  Poetry.2     For  example  ; — 

"I  like  to  meet  a  sweep;  understand  me, — not  a  grown 
sweeper,  (old  chimney-sweepers  are  by  no  means  attractive,) 
but  one  of  those  tender  novices,  blooming  through  their  first 
nigritude,  the  maternal  washings  not  quite  effaced  from  the 
cheek  ;  such  as  come  forth  with  the  dawn,  or  somewhat  earlier, 
with  their  little  professional  notes  sounding  like  the  peep,  peep 
of  a  young  sparrow ;  or  liker  to  the  matin  lark  should  I 
pronounce  them,  in  their  aerial  ascents  not  seldom  anticipating 
the  sun-rise  ?  I  have  a  kindly  yearning  toward  these  dim 
specks — poor  blots — innocent  blacknesses.  I  reverence  these 
young  Africans  of  our  own  growth, — these  almost  clergy  imps, 
who  sport  their  cloth  without  assu motion  ;  and  from  their  little 
pulpits,  (the  tops  of  chimneys,)  in  the  nipping  air  of  a  December 
morning,  preach  a  lesson  of  patience  to  mankind.     When  a 

1  Burke. 

2  Abbott  and  Seelcy,  id  cit. — How  great  the  danger,  and  how  complete  the 
failure  of  the  ambitious  writer  may  be,  the  last  example  quoted  in  this  para- 
graph will  teach. 


VARIETIES    OF    DICTION.  121 

child,  what  a  mysterious  pleasure  it  was  to  witness  their  opera- 
tion !  to  see  a  chit,  no  bigger  than  one's  self,  enter,  one  knew 
not  by  what  process,  into  what  seemed  the  fauces  Averni, — to 
pursue  him  in  imagination,  as  he  went  sounding  on  through  so 
many  dark  stifling  caverns,  horrid  shades !— to  shudder  with 
the  idea  that  'now,  surely,  he  must  be  lost  forever !  '—to  revive 
at  hearing  his  feeble  shout  of  discovered  day-light— and  then 
(O  fulness  of  delight !)  running  out  of  doors,  to  come  just  in 
time  to  see  the  sable  phenomenon  emerge  in  safety,  the  brand- 
ished weapon  of  his  art  victorious  like  some  flag  waved  over  a 
conquered  citadel !  I  seem  to  remember  having  been  told  that 
a  bad  sweep  was  once  left  in  a  stack  with  his  brush,  to  indicate 
which  way  the  wind  blew.  It  was  an  awful  spectacle  certainly  ; 
not  much  unlike  the  old  stage  direction  in  Macbeth,  where  the 
'Apparition  of  a  child  crowned,  with  a  tree  in  his  hand, 
rises.'"1 

"  This  is  saloop — the  precocious  herb-woman's  darling— the 
delight  of  the  early  gardener,  who  transports  his  smoking  cab- 
bages by  break  of  day  from  Hammersmith  to  Covent  Garden's 
famed  piazzas  ;— the  delight,  and  oh  !  I  fear,  too  often  the  envy, 
of  the  unpennied  sweep.  Him  should'st  thou  haply  encounter, 
with  his  dim  visage  pendent  over  the  grateful  steam,  regale  him 
with  a  sumptuous  basin  (it  will  cost  thee  but  three-halfpennies) 
and  a  slice  of  delicate  bread  and  butter  (an  added  halfpenny)  ; 
so  may  thy  culinary  fires,  eased  of  the  o'er-charged  secretions 
from  thy  worse-placed  hospitalities,  curl  up  a  lighter  volume  to 
the  welkin  ;  so  may  the  descending  soot  never  taint  thy  costly 
well-ingredienced  soups  nor  the  odious  cry,  quick-reaching 
from  street  to  street,  of  the  fired  chimney,  invite  the  rattling 
engines  from  ten  adjacent  parishes,  to  disturb  for  a  casual  scin- 
tillation thy  peace  and  pocket !  " 2 

"The  whole  school  were  in  ecstacies  to  hear  tales  and  stories 
from  his  genius  ;  even  like  a  flock  of  birds,  chirping  in  their  joy, 
all  newly  alighted  on  a  vernal  land.  In  spite  of  that  difference 
in  our  age — or  oh  !  say  rather  because  that  difference  did  touch 
the  one  heart  with  tenderness  and  the  other  with  reverence, — 
how  often  did  we  two  wander,  like  elder  and  younger  brother, 
in  the  sunlight  and  the  moonlight  solitudes  !  Woods  into  whose 

1  Charles  Lamb,  The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers. 

2 Id.  ib.— Note,  especially,  the  absence  of  verse-rhythm,  with  an  exquisitely 
graceful  rhythm  of  prose.  If  occasionally  a  group  of  words  falls  into  regular 
rhythm,  the  next  clause  immediately  breaks  this  rhythm  up  again. 


122  STYLE. 

inmost  recesses  we  should  have  quaked  alone  to  penetrate,  in 
his  company  were  glad  as  gardens,  through  their  most  awful 
umbrage  ;  and  there  was  beauty  in  the  shadows  of  the  old  oaks. 
Cataracts,  in  whose  lonesome  thunder,  as  it  pealed  into  those 
pitchy  pools,  we  durst  not  by  ourselves  have  faced  the  spray — 
in  his  presence,  dinned  with  a  merry  music  in  the  desert,  and 
cheerful  was  the  thin  mist  they  cast  sparkling  up  into  the  air. 
Too  severe  for  our  uncompanied  spirit,  then  easily  overcome 
with  awe,  was  the  solitude  of  those  remote  inland  lochs.  But 
as  we  walked  with  him  along  the  winding  shores,  how  passing 
sweet  the  calm  of  both  blue  depths — how  magnificent  the  white 
crested  waves,  tumbling  beneath  the  black  thunder-cloud  ! 
More  beautiful,  because  our  eyes  gazed  on  it  along  with  his,  at 
the  beginning  or  ending  of  some  sudden  storm,  the  apparition 
of  the  rainbow."  x 

159.  3.  Romance,  which  combines  the  characteristics 
of  Prose  and  of  Poetry,2  takes  at  one  time  the  strictest 
form  of  prose-diction,  at  other  times  one  of  the  special 
forms  described  in  §  158.  In  its  non-dramatic  parts,'5  it 
is  often  simple  narrative  or  other  plain  discourse,  and 
can  claim  no  license  as  to  diction ;  but  again  (and 
especially  in  the  Romance  Proper4)  it  rises  into  satire, 
humor,  the  pathetic,  the  sublime,  the  supernatural,  and 
its  kinship  with  Poetry  gives  it  a  warrant  for  greater 
or  less  elevation.  George  Eliot,  Thackeray,  Dickens, 
Blackmore,  and  many  other  novelists  have  availed  them- 
selves of  this  privilege, — some  of  them,  perhaps,  to  an 
unwarrantable  extent.     Thus  ; — 

"The  boat  reappeared,  but  brother  and  sister  had  gone  down 
in  an  embrace  never  to  be  parted  ;  living  through  again,  in  one 
supreme  moment,  the  days  when  they  had  clasped  their  little 
hands  in  love,  and  roamed  the  daisied  fields  together."  5 

Wilson,  cited  in  English  Lessons. — Perhaps,  this  extract  may  be  apologized 
for  under  I  159;  but,  wherever  it  belongs,  it  may  well  stand  as  a  warning  against 
a  diction  utterly  run  wild.  Much  unsuccessful  newspaper  and  other  periodical 
writing  results  from  such  attempts  to  imitate  the  all  but  inimitable  style  of 
Lamb  and  his  school. 

2  ?  74,  above.  3  For  the  law  of  the  dramatic  passages,  see  ?  160. 

I  ■  ;,  above.  6  The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  cited  in  English  Lessons. 


VARIETIES    OF    DICTION.  123 

"She  was  dead.  No  sleep  so  beautiful  and  calm,  so  free 
from  trace  of  pain,  so  fair  to  look  upon.  She  seemed  a  creature 
fresh  from  the  hand  of  God,  and  waiting  for  the  breath  of  life  ; 
not  one  who  had  lived  and  suffered  death.  .  .  .  And  now  the 
bell — the  bell  she  had  so  often  heard,  by  night  and  day,  and 
listened  to  with  solemn  pleasure  almost  as  [to]  a  living  voice — 
rung  its  remorseless  toll,  for  her  so  young,  so  beautiful,  so  good. 
Decrepit  age,  and  rigorous  life,  and  blooming  youth,  and  help- 
less infancy,  poured  forth — on  crutches,  in  the  pride  of  strength 
and  health,  in  the  full  blush  of  promise,  in  the  mere  dawn  of 
life — to  gather  round  her  tomb.  Old  men  were  there,  whose 
eyes  were  dim  and  senses  failing — grandmothers,  who  might 
have  died  ten  years  ago,  and  still  been  old — -the  deaf,  the  blind, 
the  lame,  the  palsied,  the  living  dead  in  many  shapes  and 
forms,  to  see  the  closing  of  that  early  grave.  What  was  the 
death  it  would  shut  in,  to  that  which  still  could  crawl  and  creep 
above  it  !  Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust !  Many 
a  young  hand  dropped  in  its  little  wreath,  many  a  stifled  sob 
was  heard.  Some — and  they  were  not  a  few — knelt  down.  All 
were  sincere  and  truthful  in  their  sorrow.  .  .  .  Then  when  the 
dusk  of  evening  had  come  on,  and  not  a  sound  disturbed  the 
sacred  stillness  of  the  place — when  the  bright  moon  poured  in 
her  light  on  tomb  and  monument,  on  pillar,  wall,  and  arch, 
and  most  of  all  (it  seemed  to  them)  upon  her  quiet  grave — in 
that  calm  time,  when  outward  things  and  inward  thoughts  turn 
with  assurances  of  immortality,  and  worldly  hopes  and  fears 
are  humbled  in  the  dust  before  them — then,  with  tranquil  and 
submissive  hearts  they  turned  away,  and  left  the  child  with 
God."1 

160.  4.  Writings  of  the  dramatic  type,  (those  in  which 
characters  are  introduced  in  their  own  person,)  admit  in 
the  dialogue  anything  that  is  necessary  duly  to  effect  this 
characterization.  Dogberry2  must  talk  like  "an  ass," 
and  Holofernes 3  like  a  pedant ;  nor  does  either  give 
offence,  so  long  as  he  talks  as  such  a  character  should 
talk.  So,  diction  grows  coarse,  provincial,  impure  in 
any  or  every  particular,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  is  refined, 

1  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  chap's  lxxi.,  Ixxii.,  passim. — Whole  passages  are 
almost  unbroketily  in  iambic  measure. 

-Shakspere,  Much  Ado.  3  Id.,  Love's  Labours  Lost. 


]  24  STYLE. 

national, — purity  itself,  according  to  the  character  of  the 
person  speaking.  The  author,  of  course,  is  not  chargeable 
with  violations  of  purity  put  into  his  characters'  mouths, 
unless  they  are  inconsistent  with  his  own  portrayals  of 
these  characters.  Indeed,  peculiarities  of  speech  may 
go  far  to  individualize  a  character  and  at  the  same 
time  to  describe  him  the  more  fully.  Thus,  Fluellen,  in 
Hairy  V.,  would  be  much  less  the  valiant  Welsh  gentle- 
man, did  he  not  use  f  for  v,  p  for  b,  and  otherwise  show 
his  contempt  for  the  King's  English  ;  the  pomposity  of 
Mr.  Trumbull1  is  chiefly  pictured  in  his  peculiar  diction; 
and  Mr.  Swiveller  and  the  Marchioness2  have  their 
characterizing  modes  of  expression. 

161.  5.  Literal  quotations  are  not  chargeable  against 
the  quoting  writer.  The  latter  is  responsible  for  intro- 
ducing the  quotation,  but  for  nothing  more.  At  the 
same  time,  excessive  quotation  in  foreign  languages  has 
the  effect  of  alienism  ;  and,  hence,  many  writers  translate 
or  paraphrase  in  their  text,  adding  the  original  in  foot- 
notes. Especially,  in  technical  works,  in  which  the 
citation  of  authorities  must  be  pushed  very  far,  the  foot- 
note serves  as  a  most  useful  storehouse  for  much  that 
would  embarrass  or  destroy  the  text. 

.  162.  6.  Colloquialisms,  forms  admissible  only  in  con- 
versation, are  also  excepted  from  the  law  of  Purity  that 
holds  in  writing  or  formal  speech.  One  ought  not  to 
"  talk  like  a  book,"  if  the  talk  is  informal ;  for  a  certain 
negligt'  in  conversation  is  a  positive  virtue.  On  the 
other  hand,  strictness  will  vary  as  speech  becomes  less 
and  less  colloquial ;  and  even  conversation  must  never 
sink  into  vulgarisms  or  other  positive  errors  of  speech. 

1  The  auctioneer  in  Middlemarck,  who  "  never  used  poor  language  without 
immediately  correcting  himself,"  and  who  therefore  fell  into  numberless  repeti- 
tions;— "A  very  nit  e  thing,  a  very  superior  publication,  entitled  '  Ivanhoe.'  " 

2  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop. 


DIVIDED    USAGE.  1 25 


VI. 

DIVIDED    USAGE. 


163.  Not  infrequently,  several  "different,  though  re- 
sembling modes  of  expression  for  the  same  thing"  are 
equally  in  good  use.  Competent  authority  can  be  urged 
for  each,  or  the  same  good  writer  uses  both  forms. 
Usage  is  then  said  to  be  "divided  ;"  and  even  the  most 
assured  believers  in  Good  Use  concede  that  the  Standard 
of  Purity  must  be  found  elsewhere.  As  a  basis  for  the 
discussion  of  such  cases,  the  following  principles  have 
been  widely  agreed  upon. 

164.  First,  the  dissent  (conscious  or  unconscious)  of 
a  single  writer  or  coterie  of  writers  does  not  set  up  a 
divided  usage.  The  alternative  form  may  not  be  a  mere 
idiotism, — that  is,  it  may  have  sufficient  support  to  make 
it  reputable ;  but  it  can  not  be  said  to  divide  usage, 
unless  its  supporting  minority  is  respectable.  The 
authorities  on  each  side  must  be  equal  or  nearly  so. 
From  an  overwhelming  weight  of  authority  on  one  side 
may  be  inferred  the  support  of  underlying  truth  ;  and 
the  feeble  minority  struggles  in  vain.  Thus,  the  pro- 
nunciations i-ther  and  ni-ther  are  certainly  heard  in 
reputable  use,  but  usage  can  not  yet  be  said  to  be  divided 
in  this  case,  for  the  supporting  minority  is  too  small. 
"Custom,  when  wavering,"  says  Dr.  Campbell,  "may 
be  swayed,  but,  when  reluctant,  will  not  be  forced.  And 
in  this  department  a  person  never  effects  so  little,  as 
when  he  attempts  too  much."  l  For  this  reason,  it 
is  to  no  purpose  with  Johnson  to  pronounce  the  word 
news  a  plural,  whatever  it  might  [may?]  have  been  in  the 
days  of  Sidney  and  Raleigh  ;  nor  is  Johnson's  rule  well 
founded,  that  no  noun  singular  should  end  with  single  s.1 

1  Campbell,  II.  ii.  1. 


126  STYLE. 

So,  in  spite  of  much  opposition  from  conservative 
writers  and  speakers,  telegram  was  quickly  accepted  as 
"good  English;"  is  being  done  and  other  passive  forms 
with  being  are  widely  used,1  and  the  subjunctive  mood 
is  quite  as  widely  disused."  On  the  other  hand,  though 
scholars  of  no  mean  rank  have  espoused  the  cause  of 
Phonetic  Spelling,  it  is  still  unadopted,  and  seems  des- 
tined to  share  the  fate  of  those  other  "reforms"  that 
would  write  Herodotos  and  Keltic,  and  pronounce  Qesar 
Kaisar  and  Virgil   1 1  ergil  (with  hard  g.) 

165.  Secondly,  in  no  case  of  Divided  Usage  can  a  man 
"  be  said  to  speak  barbarously,"  whichever  side  he  con- 
forms to.  Each  of  the  contending  forms  has  sufficient 
authority,  and  is,  therefore,  in  good  use.  Thus,  an 
important  class  of  English  words  end  indifferently  in 
-wise,  -way,  or  -ways;  and  the  last  ending  (a  genitive 
long  since  forgotten)  is,  perhaps,  the  most  truly  English 
form.  Yet  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Dictionary,  condemns 
' '  all  those  who  either  write  or  pronounce  ' '  noways 
' '  ignorant  barbarians. ' '  These,  as  Campbell  points 
out,  "are  only  Pope,  and  Swift,  and  Addison,  and 
Locke,  and  several  others  of  our  most  celebrated 
writers";'  while  the  form  is  in  noway  a  violation  of 
Etymology. 

166.  At  the  same  time,  thirdly,  one  or  another  of  such 
contending  forms  may  be  preferable,  or  the  case  can  be 
settled  by  an  appeal  to  underlying  principles.  The 
superiority  of  one  of  the  disputing  forms  is  so  great  as  to 
give  it  a  decided  preference  over  the  other,  and  thus 
virtually  to  settle  the  case  between  the  two.  Some  of 
these  principles — those  most  commonly  appealed  to — 
have  been  stated  by  Campbell  in  his  famous  "  Canons," 

1  At  the  same  time,  John  Henry  Newman  and  Grant  White  are  not  the  only 
protestants  against  this  latest  coinage  of  the  English  mint.  Many  men  of  learn- 
ing, judgment,  and  good  taste,  as  well  as  of  genuine  sympathy  with  the  true 
progress  of  the  age,  can  not  tolerate  it. 

-  //  ere  is  perhaps  the  only  exception.  3II.  ii.  1. 


DIVIDED    USAGE. 


12" 


a  condensation  of  which,  with  examples,  is  given  below. 
In  using  them,  the  student  should  always  remember  that 
other  principles  are  equally  valid,  and  that  any  principle 
known  to  be  a  law  of  thought  or  speech  may  be  brought 
forward  either  in  approval  or  in  condemnation  of  a  pro- 
posed use. 

167.   Canons  for  Divided  Use  ; — 

Of  two  (or  more)  forms  equally  in  Good  Use,  that 
which  is — 


is 


preferable 


to 


one  that 


is 


(1)  Equivocal, 

(2)  Out    of    anal- 
ogy. 


(3)  Harsh, 

(4)  Complex 
lengthy,  or 

(5)  Recent. 


and 


(1)  Univocal, 
.  (2)  Analogous    to 
other    forms    of    its 
kind    in    the     same 
language, 

(3)  Euphonious, 

(4)  Simple        and 
brief,  or 

(5)  According    to 
the  older  usage. 

168.  Examples  of  the  application  of  these  rules  may 
be  given  as  follows,  the  numbers  referring,  of  course,  to 
those  o(  the  canons. 

(1)  Beside,  as  preposition  to  mean  "by  the  side  of,"  "aside 
from,"  "out  of,"  and  besides,  (a)  as  preposition  to  mean  "in 
addition  to,"  (b)  as  adverb  or  conjunction  to  mean  "  moreover," 
"beyond,"  are  better  than  beside  or  besides  used  indifferently. 
Some  of  the  confusion,  at  least,  that  has  existed  and  still  exists 
between  the  forms  is  cleared  away  by  the  distinction.1  So 
forward,  upward,  backward,  etc.,  the  adjectives,  may  be  dis- 
tinguished from  forwards,  upwards,  backwards,  etc.,  the  ad- 
verbs; unless,  indeed,  the  fact  that,  in  these  cases,  the  part  of 
speech  is  always  made  clear  by  the  meaning  as  determined  by 
the  context,  is  to  be  considered  a  sufficient  reason  for  writing 
both  adjectives  and  adverbs  without  the  s.     (See  the  last  foot- 

'Skeat,  Etymological  Dictionary,  says  the  oldest  form  was  beside,  that  the  j 
was  added  because  many  English  adverbs  ended  in  s,  that  besides  as  a 
preposition  is  really  incorrect,  but  that  the  s-form  in  both  uses  is  very  old. 
The  same  is  true  of  many  other  adverbs  in  s. 


128  STYLE. 

note  ;  and  add  Grant  White's  chief  objections  that  the  s-forms 
increase  the  already  constant  sibilation  of  English,  and  that  all 
these  words  were  originally  written  without  s;  in  other  words, 
that  the  omission  of  j-  is  right  under  Canons  3.  and  5).  By 
consequence  is  preferable  to  of  consequence,  where  the  mean- 
ing is  consequently,  because  of  consequence  may  also  mean 
of  importance.  Scarce,  as  adjective,  and  scarcely,  as  adverb. 
Recall  rather  than  rccal,  as  more  likely  to  suggest  its  meaning, 
call  back.  Bi-cy-cle  rather  than  bi-cy'-cle  or  even  bi'-cy-cle, 
if  only  because  cycle  has  now  a  meaning  so  remote  from  wheel, 
that  bi'-cy-cle  is  most  certain  to  be  understood.  Sideways, 
lengthways,  crossways,  etc.,  and  nowise,  likewise,  otherwise, 
etc.,  seem  right,  since  the  terminations  ways  and  wise  are  of 
different  derivation  and  meaning ;  the  forms  in  -ways  being 
preferable  whenever  the  ending  means  direction,  and  those  in 
-wise  when  the  ending  means  manner  or  mode.  But  the  dis- 
tinction has  been  lost  sight  of;  and,  under  the  influence  of 
Canon  2,  -wise  is  gradually  usurping  the  place  of  -ways.  Hence, 
noways,  often  used  for  nowise,  would  seem  to  have  a  province 
of  its  own  ;  but  the  confusion  of  way=dircction  with  zoay= 
mode,  manner,  easily  promotes  an  exchange  of  the  two  forms. 

(2)  Ever  so  wise,  rather  than  never  so  wise;  whether  or  not, 
rather  than  whether  or  no ;  needs  and  dares,  when  the  verbs 
are  principal,  as  "  he  needs  no  influence,"  " he  dares  as  much 
as  man  may  dare  ;  "  but  need  and  dare,  (by  analogy  with  can, 
will,  shall,  may,  etc.,)  when  they  are  auxiliaries;  as,  "he  need 
(dare)  not  act  in  that  way  ;  "  l  sang  as  past  tense,  rather  than 
sung? 

(3)  F x>r  conscience'  sake,  not  conscience's;  boys',  not  boys' s  ;3 
godly,  not  godlily ;  scarcity,  rather  than  scarceness;  most 
proper,  rather  than  properest;    more  delightful,  rather  than 

1  Need  and  dare  are  often  conditional ;  as,  he  need  (dare)  not  try,  whatever 
should  occur,  meaning,  he  would  be  under  no  necessity  (he  would  not  have 
the  courage)  to  try,  whatever  should  occur. 

-In  Memoriam,  xxx. ; — 

"  Then  echo-like  our  voices  rang ; 

We  sung,  tho'  every  eye  was  dim, 
A  merry  song  we  sang  with  him 
Last  year:  impetuously  we  sang.'" 

"  Once  more  we  sang." 

3  But  the  's  should  be  written,  for  clearness'  sake,  whenever  Euphony  allows. 
Chambers'  is  not  so  clear  either  to  the  eye  or  to  the  ear  as  Chambers' s ;  and,  in 
not  a  few  such  cases,  the  double  .s-  is  not  intolerably  harsh. 


DIVIDED    USAGE.  I  29 

delightfuller  ;l  on  the  floor,  rather  than  upon  the  floor;'  to, 
rather  than  unto  ;  -  round,  rather  than  around? 

.(4)  Admit,  approve,  meet,  attain,  rather  than  admit  or  approve 
of,  meet  with,  attain  to.  So,  gather  together,  come  in,  (as  a 
reply  to  a  knock),  trace  out,  examine  into,  and  many  other 
compound  verbs  may  properly  lose  their  adverbs,  unless  the 
sense  plainly  requires  them.  Endeavour  oneself  long  ago  gave 
way  to  endeavour. 

(5)  To  let,  for  sale  are  older  (and  shorter)  than  to  be  let,  to 
be  sold  ;  to  do  (as  "what  is  there  to  do  ")  than  to  be  done;  begin, 
than  commence;  and  the  house  is  building  than  the  house  is 
being  built?  Point  of  view,  man  of  science,  the  work  of  his 
life,  and  many  other  such  phrases  are  preferable  by  Canon  5  • 
but  Canon  4  may  yet  fasten  upon  the  language  stand-point, 
scientist,*  life-work,  etc.  Both  Johnson  and  Webster  sought  to 
"restore  the  ancient  usage,"  the  former  by  writing  u  in  the 
ending  -our,  as  in  honour,  parlour,  etc.,  the  latter  by  dropping 
it :  simplicity  and  brevity  have  decided  the  question  (for 
America,  at  least);  and  this,  although  the  sound  heard  is  u  and 
not  o.  On  the  contrary,  Canon  5  has  kept  Saviour,  as  it  has 
traveller?  recall?  programme?  coquette,  and  many  others. 

Under  Canon  1  many  dissyllabic  verbs  are  distinguished 
from  nouns  or  adjectives  of  the  same  spelling,6  and  a  few  nouns 
from  their  adjective-doubles,7  by  a  difference  of  accent.  But 
the  older  usage  (Canon  5)  still  controls  not  a  few  such  cases. 
Perfect  is  still  the  verb  as  well  as  the  adjective ;  cemhit  and 
detail  are  all  but  universal  as  nouns.     Between  cdntenis,  pr6- 

1  Many  such  comparatives  and  superlatives  are  hard  to  pronounce,  as  well  as 
of  harsh  sound. 

2  Defensible,  also,  by  Canon  4;  but  the  rhythm  of  verse  often,  as  the  rhythm 
of  prose  sometimes,  demands  the  longer  form. 

3Clearness,  however,  may  require  the  form  with  being.  Thus,  "just  as  the 
rogue  was  flogging"  would  not  say  clearly  that  the  rogue  was  being  flogged. 
Occasionally,  too,  the  active  form  would  be  intolerable  for  other  reasons. 
Thus,  "  when  the  stone  was  raising  into  its  place  "  would  forcibly  suggest  the 
vulgarism  of  raise  for  rise;  and  this,  although  stones  do  not  rise,  but  are 
raised. 

4  Especially,  this  word,  so  much  shorter  and  simpler  than  tuan  of  science, 
and  objected  to  for  reasons  comparatively  so  weak. 

6  Most  words  of  the  trdvel  class,  however,  do  not  double  their  final  letter: 
rebel(fcom  bellutri)  drops  one/,-  and  anagram,  diagram,  etc.  (taken  directly 
from  the  Greek)  never  had  final  -me  in  English. 

6 For  example,  record  and  record.  ">  For  example,  a&gust  and  augttst. 

9 


130  STYLE. 

ceeds,  ally,  etc.,  and  contents,  proceeds,  ally' ,  etc.,  Canon  1  is 
fast  securing  a  verdict ;  as,  in  the  case  of  the  nouns  permit,  pro- 
test, pirfume,  increase,  retail,  survey,  it  perhaps  has  been 
successful.  In  contrdl  no  difference  of  accent  seems  ever  to 
have  been  suggested  ;  while  cdmbat,  the  only  form  known  to 
the  dictionaries,  is  often  spoken  coinbdi  when  it  is  a  verb. 
Gallant,  adjective  and  noun,  becomes  gallant  in  the  special 
meanings  of  "  attentive  to  ladies  "  and  "  suitor,"  and  is  always 
gallant  as  a  verb.  Under  Canon  5,  it  is  me,  it  is  him,  etc.,  are 
undoubtedly  preferable  to  it  is  I,  it  is  he  ;  but  Canon  2,  is  fast 
striking  the  balance  in  favor  of  the  nominative  construction. 
The  modern  use  seems  to  be  due  to  the  Bible  of  161  if 
Matt.  xiv.  27,  where  the  translators  wrote  it  is  I,  for  the  Greek 
eyu  Ei/ii  (Latin  ego  sum)}  Shakspere  had,  indeed,  used  the 
nominative;2  and  a  curious  failure  to  distinguish  the  English 
cases  had  characterized  other  writers  before  as  well  as  in  his 
time;  but  Mr.  Ellis's  words  are  doubtless  true, — "I  consider 
that  the  phrase  it  is  I  is  a  modernism,  or  rather  a  grammat- 
icism — that  is,  it  was  never  in  popular  use.  The  Anglo- 
Saxon  form  was  /  am  it,*  the  form  still  used  in  German ; 
while  the  other  Teutonic  languages  had  and  have  either  /  am 
it  or  it  is  me.  The  translators  of  161 1  of  course  knew  nothing 
of  all  this,  and  so  selected  the  form  that  doubtless  recommended 
itself  to  their  minds  as  most  accordant  with  classical  usage  in 
regard  to  predicates.  On  the  same  principle,  the  pronoun 
either,  restricted  by  its  derivation  to  mean  one  or  the  other  of 
two,  may  mean  one  of  any  number ;  for,  as  a  conjunction,  it  is 
not  so  restricted,  and,  by  analogy,  often  takes  the  broader 
meaning.4  Canon  5,  however,  has  so  far  proved  stronger 
than  Canon  2  ;  and  the  best  literary  use  to-day  is  overwhelm- 
ingly in  favor  of  limiting  the  meaning  of  the  word. 

169.  Of  the  five  canons,  1  is  generally  decisive  ;  but, 
even  it  may  sometimes  be  set  aside.  Next  in  weight 
come  4,  5,  3,  2  (in  the  order  named)  ;  but  5  necessarily 
admits  of  many  exceptions,  the  borderland  between  the 
archaic  and  the  present  being  narrow,  indefinable,  and 
easily  passed   unconsciously.     Canon    2    has   compara- 

1  Cf.  v.  28,  if  it  be  thou  for  ei  <rv  el  (si  tu  rs). 

2  V.  and  A.,  993;  .-Is,  III.  ii.  267;  and  elsewhere. 

3  March,  Grammar,  I  366,  5.  4So,  too,  of  course,  neither. 


DIVIDED    USAGE.  131 

tively  little  influence,  unless  it  has  the  field  to  itself. 
The  rule  laid  down  above1  that  the  surest  road  to  Purity- 
is  the  cultivation  of  a  refined  literary  feeling,  applies  with 
peculiar  force  in  cases  of  Divided  Use.  In  no  case  will 
this  literary  sense  be  more  valuable  than  in  deciding  the 
many  delicate  questions  raised  when  both  Use  and  Law 
are  divided  against  themselves. 


132  STYLE. 


(B)  THE  ELEMENTS   OF  STYLE. 

SUB-DIVISIONS. 

170.  Mechanically  considered,  language  consists  of 
words  ( including  phrase s  and  clauses),  sentences  (or  col- 
lections of  words  that  express  statements,  commands, 
or  questions),1  paragraphs  (groups  of  sentences — 
sometimes  a  single  sentence — relating  to  one  particular 
point  in  a  discourse),  and  whole  compositions.  The 
larger  divisions  of  entire  works,  sections,  chapters,  parts, 
books,  volumes,  etc. ,  are  really  whole  compositions  upon 
the  limited  themes  discussed  within  their  bounds.  Hence, 
the  following  sub-divisions  of  the  Elements  of  Style  ; 
— I.  Vocabulary,  II  The  Sentence,  III.  The  Paragraph, 
IV.  The  Whole  Composition.  To  these  may  be  added, 
for  convenience'  sake,  V.  Figures  of  Speech  ;  for,  though 
figures  are  generally  treated  as  special  devices  to  promote 
force,2  they  tend  quite  as  often  to  clearness,3  to  ornament,4 
or  to  some  other  end,  and,  hence,  belong  rather  with  the 
Elements  of  Style  as  preparatory  to  the  consideration 
of  the  Qualities  of  Style. 

171.  These  sub-divisions  (except  the  last)  are  determined  by 
the  principle  of  Unity,  the  law  that  each  division  of  a  whole 
work  shall  contain  within  its  own  limits  only  one  part  of  that 
work.  This  law  controls  all  rational  procedures,  but  is  of 
especial  importance  in  Composition  ;  for,  since  it  is  impossible 
that  the  same  mental  faculties  shall  be  engaged  at  identically 
the  same  moment  in  two  or  more  different  ways,  the  communica- 
tion, of  thought  is  in  even  a  stronger  sense  impossible  without  con- 
fusion, unless  the  law  of  Unity  be  strictly  observed.  Hence,  the 
value  of  the  distinctions  between  words,  phrases,  sentences,  etc., 
not  only  as  truths  of  Grammar,  but  also  as  laws  of  Rhetoric, — not 
only  to  the  student  of  language,  but  to  the  writer  as  well. 

1When  a  single  word  seems  to  constitute  a  sentence,  there  is  always  an 
ellipsis;  as,  Yes. — iVo. — Never! — Read  (imperative). — Pshaw!  The  shortest 
non-elliptical  sentence  contains  at  least  two  words,  a  subject  and  a  predicate. 

2 1  325.  below.  3£  3iS,  below.  4g  339,  below. 


VOCABULARY.  133 

I. 

VOCABULARY. 

i.  The  Choice  of  Words. 

172.  "There  is  reason  to  think,"  says  George  P. 
Marsh,1  "that  the  vocabulary  of  English  is  among  the 
most  extensive  now  employed  by  man.  The  number  of 
words  not  yet  obsolete,  but  found  in  good  authors,  or 
in  approved  usage  by  correct  speakers,  including  the 
nomenclature  of  science  and  the  arts,  does  not  probably 
fall  short  of  one  hundred  thousand."  How  this  total 
was  reached,  Mr.  Marsh  does  not  say ;  but,  if  it  was  a 
fair  estimate  in  1861,  an  additional  ten  or  twenty  thousand 
words  may  safely  be  assumed  for  the  language  to-day, 
and  the  English-speaking  nations  may  justly  pride  them- 
selves on  their  noble  inheritance.  Even  by  comparison 
with  German,  a  language  of  most  copious  vocabulary, 
English  does  not  suffer ;  Jacob  Grimm  himself,  in  a 
well-known  passage,  ascribing  to  it  "  a  veritable  power 
of  expression,  such  as  perhaps  never  stood  at  the  com- 
mand of  any  other  language  of  men,"  and  saying  that 
even  German  "must  first  rid  itself  of  many  defects, 
before  it  can  enter  boldly  into  the  lists  as  a  competitor 
with  the  English."  2 


*&>* 


173.  The  latest  editions  of  Webster  and  Worcester3  contain 
about  one  hundred  and  nineteen  and  one  hundred  and  sixteen 
thousand  words  respectively.  Of  these  many  are  obsolete,  and 
a  few  (beyond  question)  mere  "dictionary"  words;  so  that  one 
hundred  and  fifteen  thousand  is,  perhaps,  a  safe  estimate  of  the 
total  number  of  present  English  words  as  shown  by  these  works. 

1  Lectures,  I.  1S1.  (Fourth  Ed.  1861.) 

2 On  the  Origin  of  Language  (quoted  and  translated  by  Trench,  English 
Past  and  Present,  Lect.  I.) 

3Unabridged,  with  Supplement. — The  numbers  are  given  by  the  courtesy  and 
with  the  authority  of  the  editors  and  publishers. 


134  STYLE. 

Grieb's  German  Dictionary  (Am.  Ed.  1S57),  as  comprehensive 
for  its  day  as  Webster  or  Worcester  of  the  same  date,  contains 
apparently  about  ninety-five  thousand  words ;  and,  hence, 
on  the  supposition  of  an  increase  since  1857  of  from  ten  to 
twenty  thousand  words,  German  to-day  may  have  between  one 
hundred  and  five  and  one  hundred  and  fifteen  thousand  words.1 

174.  Few  writers  or  speakers  of  English,  however,  use 
more  than  a  fractional  part  of  this  abundant  wealth  of 
their  mother-tongue.  ' '  There  are  persons  who  know 
the  vocabulary  in  nearly  its  whole  extent,  but  they  under- 
stand a  large  proportion  of  it  much  as  they  are  acquainted 
with  Greek  or  Latin,  that  is,  as  the  dialect  of  books,  or 
of  special  arts  or  professions,  and  not  as  a  living  speech, 
the  common  language  of  daily  and  hourly  thought.  Or 
if,  like  some  celebrated  English  and  American  orators, 
living  and  dead,  they  are  able,  upon  occasion,  to  bring 
into  the  field  in  the  war  of  words  even  the  half  of  this 
vast  array  of  light  and  heavy  troops,  yet  they  habitually 
content  themselves  with  a  much  less  imposing  display  of 
verbal  force,  and  use  for  ordinary  purposes  but  a  very 
small  proportion  of  the  words  they  have  at  their  com- 
mand. " 2  "  Few  writers  or  speakers  use  as  many  as  ten 
thousand  words,  ordinary  persons  of  fair  intelligence  not 
above  three  or  four  thousand. ' ' 2  The  ' '  all-embracing 
Shakspere  wrote  his  plays  with  about  ' '  fifteen  thousand 
words;"  the  "all-knowing  Milton"  his  poems  with 
about  "  eight  thousand.  "2  The  Bible  of  161 1  (without 
the  Apocrypha)  contains  rather  less  than  six  thousand 
words,3  and  Edwin  Abbott's  Concordance  to  Pope  perhaps 
eleven  thousand.4  The  Egyptian  hieroglyphic  symbols 
and  the  words  used  in  Italian  opera  count  each  about 

!The  method  of  counting  Grieb  had,  unfortunately,  to  be  rough.  The 
number  of  words  on  a  dozen  or  twenty  pages  was  averaged,  and  this  average 
multiplied  by  the  number  of  pages  in  the  volume.  The  results,  uncertain  as 
they  no  doubt  are,  can  not  be  seriously  astray. 

2Marsh,  pp.  181,  182.  3  Marsh,  p.  263. 

4  Estimated  by  the  plan  described  in  foot-note1,  above. 


VOCABULARY.  1 35 

eight  hundred ; l  the  vocabularies  of  business  and  of 
travel  are  very  small;2  and  a  wholly  uneducated  man 
"gets  on"  with  probably  not  above  three  or  four 
hundred  words.3 

175.  The  explanation  of  these  at  first  astonishing  facts  is 
correctly  given  by  Mr.  Marsh.4  First,  any  one  running  over 
the  pages  of  a  dictionary  finds  that  a  large  proportion  of  its 
words  are  such  as  he  himself  never  uses.  Secondly,  although 
few  words  are  "absolutely  synonymous,  yet  every  important 
thought,  image,  and  feeling,  has  numerous  allied,  if  not  equivalent 
forms  of  expression,  and  out  of  these  every  man  appropriates 
and  almost  exclusively  employs  those  which  most  closely  accord 
with  his  own  "  habits,  tastes,  opinions,  reading,  etc.  "  One  man 
will  say  a  thankful  heart,  another  a  grateful  spirit;  one  fancy, 
another  imagination ;  one's  friend  is  of  a  sanguine  tempera- 
ment, another's  of  a  hopeful  spirit ;  one  regards  a  winter 
passage  around  Cape  Horn  as  a  very  hazardous  voyage, 
another  considers  it  a  peculiarly  dangerous  trip.  Men  of 
moderate  passions  employ  few  epithets,  with  verbs  and  sub- 
stantives of  mild  signification  ;  excitable  men  use  numerous 
intensives,  and  words  of  strong  and  stirring  meanings.  Loose 
thinkers  content  themselves  with  a  single  expression  for  a  large 
class  of  related  ideas ;  logical  men  scrupulously  select  the 
precise  word  which  corresponds  to  the  thought  they  utter." 
Thirdly,  many  words  are-  the  tec/mica  of  science  or  art,  and 
are  but  little  known  or  used  outside  of  their  own  domains. 

176.  At  the  same  time,  "  command  of  language  is  the 
author's  first  requisite.  A  good  memory  for  words  is  no 
less  indispensable  to  the  author  than  a  good  memory  for 
forms  is  to  the  painter.  Words  are  the  material  that  the 
author  works  in,  and  it  is  necessary  above  everything 
[else]  that  he  should  have  a  large  store  at  his  command.  "5 

1  Marsh,  pp.  181,  182.  2  A.  S.  Hill. 

3A  mere  guess,  and  perhaps  too  low.  It  is  based  upon  a  close  observation 
for  several  years  of  eight  or  ten  men,  who  could  all  read  a  little,  but  (with  one 
or  two  exceptions)  could  not  write.  The  most  noticeable  fact  in  their  talk  was 
its  lack  of  synonyms:  a  few  words  did  duty  for  whole  classes  of  terms. 

4 1 7  tit. — Even  within  the  quotation-marks,  liberties  have  been  taken  by  way 
of  condensation.  The  whole  lecture  from  which  the  extracts  are  made  is 
important  in  this  connection. 

6Minto,  Manual,  p.  2. 


I36  STYLE. 

Or,  to  change  the  figure,  an  author  fights  with  his 
vocabulary  as  a  general  with  his  army  ;  and  he  shows  his 
skill,  not  only  in  marshalling  and  disposing  his  forces, 
but  also  in  keeping  a  sufficient  number  ready  for  battle, 
and  in  making  his  details.  No  expenditure  of  time  or 
labor,  therefore,  can  be  too  great,  which  proves  neces- 
sary to  the  acquisition  of  an  extensive  and  well-chosen 
vocabulary.  Indeed,  on  the  principle  of  noblesse  oblige, 
the  student  of  English,  who  has  at  his  disposal  an  almost 
unlimited  store  of  words,1  should  feel  bound  in  honor  to 
use  his  vocabulary  most  fully  and  discreetly. 

177.  What,  then,  does  command  of  language  imply, 
and  how  shall  it  be  obtained  ?  ( 1 )  Command  of  language 
implies  (a)  Copiousness  and  Variety  in  Words,  (b)  Skill 
in  Selection.  (2)  It  may  be  obtained  (a)  by  the  Ex- 
tended Reading  of  Standard  Authors,  (b)  by  using  works 
of  Reference,  (r)  by  Practice  in  Composition.  Each  of 
these  statements  deserves  detailed  consideration. 

178.  (1)  (a)  Poverty  or  monotony  of  language  is  the 
sure  road  to  grammatical  impurity,  to  violations  of 
Brevity,2  to  irretrievable  dullness.  The  constant  use  of 
slang  and  other  forbidden  but  more  familiar  substitutes 
for  correct  expressions,  the  slovenly  and  the  exaggerated 
use  of  words,  the  exchange  of  words  that  resemble  each 
other  or  are  in  some  other  way  falsely  suggested  to  the 
mind,  the  absurd  (and,  surely,  "vain")  repetitions,  cir- 
cumlocutions, and  prolixities  that  characterize  the  lan- 
guage of  "poor"  speakers,  the  sameness  of  word  and 
phrase  from  sentence  to  sentence  that  paints  the  whole 
picture  (as  it  were)  in  one  color, — all  these  vices  are  bred 
in  a  meagre  and  unvaried  vocabulary.  Even  the  ear  is 
offended  ;  for  the  constant  recurrence  of  the  same  sounds, 
whether  harsh  or  pleasant,  is  monotonous,  and  an  active 
mind  either  sinks  under  the  load  or  else  escapes  from  it 
by  refusing  to  read  or  listen. 

1  $  172  ff,  above.  s$  I9I)  below. 


THE    CHOICE    OF    WORDS.  137 

J79-  (&)  Unskilful  selection  of  words  leads  to  ob- 
scurity and  weakness ; — to  language  that  befogs  the 
reader  by  leaving  its  meaning  ambiguous  or  unin- 
telligible ;  language  that  fails  of  its  purpose  because 
it  lacks  the  vigor  derivable  only  from  "the  fitness  of 
things."  "A  word  fitly  spoken,"  wrote  the  wisest 
man  of  antiquity,  "  is  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of 
silver. ' ' 

180.  (2)  (a)  If  reading  is  to  promote  command  of 
language,  it  must  be  extended,  varied,  interesting  to  the 
reader,  and  critical.  As  noted  above,  also,  it  should  be 
chiefly  of  standard  authors.  At  the  same  time,  an  occa- 
sional hour  spent  on  inferior  writers  is  not  wholly  wasted. 
There  are  valuable  exercises  in  false  Rhetoric,  as  well  as 
in  false  Syntax.  The  danger  in  reading  only  a  few 
authors  is  that  their  mannerisms  and  other  peculiarities  in 
language  shall  be  acquired,  while  what  is  best  in  their 
style  is  lost  sight  of.  Style,  even  in  respect  of  vocabu- 
lary, is  undoubtedly  the  man  himself;1  but,  beneath 
what  is  peculiar  and  individual,  their  lies  a  broad  foun- 
dation, which  is  common  to  all  writers.  To  build  upon 
this  foundation,  one  must  know,  not  a  few  authors,  but 
many.  For  the  same  reason,  reading  must  be  varied. 
The  writers  of  each  class  of  books  use  to  a  great  extent 
the  same  words  :  they  certainly  use  words  of  the  same 
class.  The  diction  of  Poetry  (as  has  been  said  above) 
is  not  that  of  Prose,  and  even  the  several  kinds  of  Prose 
differ  in  this  respect.  To  have  a  specialist's  knowledge 
of  words  in  many  different  subjects  is  not  often  possible; 
but  a  man  of  the  higher  culture  may  justly  be  expected 
to  know  many  words  outside  of  the  topics  of  his  own 
profession  or  his  own  special  reading.  Further,  reading 
must  interest  the  reader,  and  be  critical.  Perfunctory 
work — so  many  hours,  so  many  pages  a  day,  done  list- 
lessly or  in  a  fit  of  absence  of   mind — is  simply  idle. 

1  j!  312,  below. 


I38  STYLE. 

The  rule  to  read  at  least  so  much  a  day  is  beyond  all 
question  good  ;  but,  if  the  reading  is  done  mechanically 
or  inattentively,  the  rule  is  as  little  fulfilled  as  the  injunc- 
tion to  pray  always  is  obeyed  by  carrying  about  a  prayer 
on  one's  hat-band  or  by  sewing  it  in  the  hem  of  one's 
coat.     At  the  same  time,  no  truce  should  be  made  with 
the  temptation  to  indulge  morbid  appetites.     It  is  a  part 
of  the  duty  of  an  educated  man  to  cultivate  his  taste  for 
what  is  good  in  itself;  and,  if  he  finds  a  deficiency  in 
any  direction  within    the  limits  proper  for  him,   he  is 
bound  assiduously  to  develop  himself  in  that  direction. 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  returning   heart-broken  from  the 
continent   because  he  had  been  unable  to  admire  the 
works  of  the  great  masters  in  Art,  and  setting  himself  to 
study  more  closely  and  to  train  more  rigorously  his  own 
powers,  is  an  example  worth  volumes  of  homily.     On  his 
next  trip  abroad  he  was  abundantly  rewarded  :  pictures 
that  before  had  repelled  him,   now  attracted  him  most 
powerfully.     Of  course,  critical  observation  of  standard 
authors  will  not  be  possible,  until  after  the  student  has 
acquired  some  knowledge  of  the  rules  of  Rhetoric,  and 
has  had  some  practice  in  Composition.    Ignorant  criticism 
is  simply  barbarous.1     At  the  same  time,  if  an  uncritical 
habit  of  reading  is  once  acquired,  it  is  most  difficult  to 
correct;    and,    on    this   account,    the    habit   of  reading 
thoughtfully — critically  so  far  as  one  does  know — should 
be  cultivated  early  in  life.     To  read  with  one's  eyes  open, 
one  need  not  wait  till  the  sight  has  begun  to  fail. 

181.  (b~)  Works  of  Reference,  though  of  only  sec- 
ondary value,  are  not  to  be  lightly  esteemed.  They  do 
not,  indeed,  make  usage  ;  still  less,  the  laws  of  Rheto- 
ric :  they  simply  record  these  things.  But,  when  prepared 
by  authors  of  learning  and  skill,  especially  when  they 
have  passed  the  editorship  of  several  generations,  their 
record   is  of  great  value.     Liddell  and  Scott's    Greek 

1  Appendix,  p.  333. 


THE   CHOICE   OF   WORDS.  139 

Dictionary,  Webster  s  and  Worcester1  s  English  Diction- 
aries, The  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  doubtless  have  their 
weak  places ;  but  are  they  therefore  to  be  discarded  ? 
So,  books  of  synonyms — Smith's  Synonyms  Discrimi- 
nated is  of  the  first  rank — have  their  place  among  a 
writer' s  ' '  tools. ' '  At  the  same  time,  knowledge  derived 
from  works  of  reference  has  not  the  life,  and,  therefore, 
not  the  power,  of  that  obtained  by  personal  contact  with 
actual  literary  products  ;  and  a  man  who  knows  only  the 
dictionaries,  etc.,  knows  his  language  very  much  as  a 
physician  knows  medicine  who  has  never  been  at  the 
bedside. 

182.  (c)  Practice  in  Composition,  too,  tends  to  en- 
largement of  vocabulary.  At  the  moment  of  compos- 
ing, indeed,  words  are  chosen  unconsciously  ;  but  re- 
vision brings  forward  many  questions  that  must  be 
answered,  shows  when  and  why  the  right  word  or  its 
opposite  has  been  taken,  and  so  defines  and  extends 
critical  knowledge.  More  than  this,  words  are  but 
counters  till  they  are  used  in  composition  :  then  they  are 
real  in  a  sense  true  never  before. 

183.  The  principles  on  which  a  wise  choice  of  words  is 
made  are  many  and  various.  Some  of  them  have  already 
been  stated  ;  some  will  be  met  hereafter.  Three  seem 
especially  to  belong  here.     These  are — 

(1)  Other  things  being  equal,  native  words — in  English, 
words  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin — are  preferable  to  those 
derived  from  other  sources. 

(2)  Short  words — monosyllables  and  dissyllables — 
have  some  advantages  over  longer  ones. 

(3)  "  Proper  words  in  proper  places."  r 

184.  ( 1 )  The  reason  for  preferring  native  words  to  those 
that  have  come  into  the  language  from  other  sources,  is 
evident.  A  writer  naturally  uses  best  the  words  of  his 
own  linguistic  stock.     These  are  to  his  manner  born  : 

^'Swift's  definition  of  a  good  style."— A.  S.  Hill. 


I40  STYLE. 

other  words  have  had  to  accommodate  themselves  to  that 
manner,  and  have  not  always  succeeded.  An  English- 
man,1 therefore,  since  his  language  is  Teutonic  in  gram- 
mar, and  (so  far  as  the  words  he  uses  most  constantly 
are  concerned)  overwhelmingly  Teutonic  in  vocabulary,2 
an  Englishman  naturally  concedes  to  ' '  Anglo-Saxon 
English"  an  eldest  son's  prerogative.  Besides,  in 
English,  the  words  of  native  stock  name,  as  a  rule,  things 
in  every-day  use,  and  are,  hence,  both  simple  and  brief. 
Archbishop  Trench's  comments  on  this  fact  have  long 
been  familiar  ; 3  and  the  experience  of  every  one  in  the 
main  confirms  that  writer's  views.4 

185.  Further,  an  etymological  analysis  of  the  English 
vocabulary  points  the  same  way.  (a)  Taken  in  bulk, 
about  sixty  per  cent,  of  English  words  are  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  thirty  from  the  Latin  (including  Latin 
through  the  French),  five  from  the  Greek,  and  five  from 
all  other  sources.5  (5)  A  careful  examination  of  the 
total  vocabularies  of  the  English  Bible,  Shakspere,  Mil- 
ton's poetry,  and  of  selected  passages  from  several  other 
authors,6  justifies  the  inferences  that  the  best  English 
authors  use  very  large  proportions  of  Anglo-Saxon  words, 
and  that  a  writer  who  to-day  habitually  falls  below  seventy 
per  cent,  of  Anglo-Saxon  is  un-English.  Some  results 
may  be  given  here  ; — • 

1  That  is,  any  one  who  speaks  English  as  his  mother-tongue. 

2CfJ  185,  below. 

8  On  the  Study  of  Words,  Lect.  III.  Trench  instances  the  great  features  of 
nature,  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  earth,  water  and  fire;  all  the  prime  social 
relations,  father,  mother,  husband,  wife,  son,  daughter  ;  the  words  house,  roof, 
home,  hearth,  board;  boor,  hind,  churl ;  flail,  plough,  sickle,  spade ;  wheat,  rye, 
oats,  here  (=  barley);  ox,  deer,  cow,  calf,  sheep,  swine,  deer,  fowl;  and  then 
notes  that  the  list  might  be  much  extended. 

4  But  see  l\  186  ft",  below. 

5  Trench,  ut  cit. — Skeat,  Ety.  Diet.,  App.,  gives  lists  from  which  (counting 
roughly,  to  be  sure)  the  proportion  of  Anglo-Saxon  to  Latin  may  be  stated  at 
about  18:  8  or  9, — a  result  not  materially  different  from  Trench's. 

6  G.  P.  Marsh,  Lectures,  I.  119  ff. 


THE    CHOICE    OF    WORDS. 


I4I 


Chaucer, 88-93  per  cent,  of  Anglo-Saxon. 

Spenser, 86 

New  Testament, 90-96 

Shakspere, 88-91         " 

Milton, 80-90        " 

Addison, 82 

Swift, 68-85 

Johnson, 72  " 

Hume, 73 

Gibbon, 70 


Irvine:, 


// 


-85 


Macaulay, 75  " 

Bryant, 84-92  " 

Mrs.  Browning, 70-92 

Tennyson, 87-89  " 

Longfellow, 87  " 

Ruskin, 73-S4 

186.  But  the  preference  thus  established  for  Anglo- 
Saxon  must  not  be  either  misstated  or  misunderstood. 

187.  (a)  It  implies  no  law  against  other  English,  only  a 
conclusion  in  favor  of  large  percentages  of  Anglo-Saxon. 
Well-meaning  but  over-zealous  advocates  often  forget 
this,  and  leave  the  impression  that  a  man  who  uses  more 
than  a  mere  sprinkling  of  Latin  or  other  non-Teutonic 
words  is  a  sinner  "above  all  the  Galileans."  For  exam- 
ple, Mr.  Oliphant's  dictum  for  "  the  best  of  English  "  is 
"old  Teutonic  words,  with  a  dash  of  French  terms  mostly 
naturalized  in  the  Thirteenth  Century,"1 — a  dictum  that 
would  bind  the  tongue  in  this  age  with  mediaeval  fetters.'2 
On  the  other  hand,  Marsh  justly  says  that  not  only  must 
the  relative  proportions  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  Latin  in 
the  vocabulary  at  any  time  be  considered,  but  also  that 
the  subject  of  the  work  must  be  borne  in  mind.  ' '  Had 
words  of  Latin  and  French  etymology  been  proportion- 
ally as  numerous  in  the  time  of  Johnson  and  of  Gibbon  as 
they  now  are,  those  authors,  instead  of  employing  twenty - 

1  Standard  English. 

sIts  effect  on  Mr.  Oliphant's  own  style  is  exemplified  below  (g  188  b). 


142  STYLE. 

eight  or  thirty  per  cent,  of  such  words,  would  scarcely 
have  contented  themselves  with  less  than  fifty.  And  had 
either  of  them  attempted  the  aesthetical  theories  so 
eloquently  discussed  by  Ruskin,  with  the  knowledge  and 
the  stock  of  words  possessed  by  that  masterly  writer, 
their  Saxon  would  have  been  confined  to  particles, 
pronouns,  and  auxiliaries,  the  mere  wheel-work  of  syn- 
tactical movement."1  So,  in  one  of  two  passages  from 
Washington  Irving,  Mr.  Marsh  finds  eleven  per  cent,  of 
foreign  words,  in  the  other,  nearly  thirty-eight  per  cent.2 
188.  (b)  The  reasons  assigned  in  favor  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  English  have  force,  if  at  all,  only  in  cases  that 
admit  of  a  choice ;  and  such  cases  are  much  more  rare 
than  is  commonly  believed.  («)  No  two  English  words, 
perhaps,  have  precisely  the  same  meaning.  Synonyms 
are  words  of  like,  not  of  the  same  signification,  and, 
even  when  they  come  closest  in  sense,  are  still  separable. 
Thus,  two  words  nearer  in  meaning  than  begin  and  com- 
mence could  not  be  found  ;  and  yet  the  alphabet  begins — 
it  could  not  be  said  to  commence — with  the  letter  a. 
After  five  hours'  walking  I  began  to  feel  tired ;  but,  I 
commenced  walking  at  five  o'clock.3  So,  in  a  multitude 
of  other  examples  differences  of  sense  will  be  found  that 
can  not  be  set  aside  in  pursuit  of  any  etymological 
theory.  (,?)  Words  that  come  close  in  meaning  are  not 
always  of  different  derivation.  Thus,  neither  fancy  nor 
imagination,  however  they  compare  in  sense,  is  Teutonic; 
and  the  same  is  true  of  both  words  in  the  following  pairs, 
— regard and  consider,  very  and  peculiarly,  hazardous  and 
dangerous.*  (j)  Many  notions  are  not  expressed  in 
English  by  words  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin.  Thus 
Trench0  says  that  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  which  "  consists 

1  Lectures,  I.  127. 

2  Bracebridge  Hall and  The  Sketch  Book.     (Marsh,  pp.  129-131.) 

3 Smith,  Synonyms  Discriminated.  *l  175,  above. 

b  English  Past  and  Present,  Lect.  I. 


THE   CHOICE   OF   WORDS.  I43 

of  exactly  sixty1  words,  only  the  following  six  claim  the 
rights  of  Latin  citizenship  :  trespasses,  trespass,  tempta- 
tion, deliver,  power,  glory."  For  these,  he  thinks, 
might  be  substituted  (respectively)  sins,  [sin],  trials, 
free,  might,  and  brightness.  But,  surely,  sins  and  tres- 
passes are  not  co-extensive  in  meaning ;  nor  are  bright- 
ness and  glory.  In  Luke  xi.  4,  to  be  sure,  sins  is 
substituted  for  trespasses ;  but  it  is  explained  by  indebted 
in  the  following  clause.2  So,  glory  may  mean  brightness, 
as  in  1  Cor.  xv.  41,  "one  glory  of  the  sun,  and  another 
glory  of  the  moon,  and  another  glory  of  the  stars  ;"  but, 
when  the  devil  shows  Jesus  "the  kingdoms  of  the  world, 
and  the  glory  of  them"  (Matt.  iv.  8),  and  especially 
when  Jesus  prays,  ' '  O  Father,  glorify  thou  me  with 
thine  own  self  with  the  glory  which  I  had  with  thee 
before  the  world  was"  (John  xvii.  5),  the  word  has  surely 
a  far  different  sense.  This  sense,  moreover,  is  that 
intended  in  the  prayer,  and  one  that  no  other  English 
word  exactly  expresses.  As  to  trials  and  temptation, 
Trench  himself  concedes  a  difference — how  great  a  differ- 
ence he  hardly  seems  to  feel.  Deliver,  too,  though  it 
may  mean  to  set  free,  also  means  to  protect  from,  as  free 
does  not.  Might  perhaps  denotes  lawful  power,  what 
one  may  do  :  power  does  not  thus  limit  itself. 

188  a.  The  truth  is  that,  while  the  recommendation  to 
be  Anglo-Saxon  in  diction  is  most  strenuously  to  be 
insisted  upon — a  recommendation  first  made,  apparently, 
by  Trench,  but  echoed  by  numbers  of  able  writers, 
Marsh,  Oliphant,  Herbert  Spencer,  Bain,  Austin  Phelps, 
— yet  it  must  not  be  allowed  to  hamper,  still  less  to  fetter, 
the  writer.  Unfortunately,  it  has  sometimes  been  ridden 
as  "a  hobby,"  only  to  its  rider's  discomfiture.  Lan- 
guage that  is  simple,   clear,  precise,  good  in  any  way, 

1  An   evident  misprint,  by  ductus  literarum,  for  seventy.      If   the  Amen  is 
counted,  the  prayer  has  seventy-one  words. 
2Cf.  debts  and  debtors,  Matt.  vi.  12. 


144  STYLE. 

is  always,  no  matter  what  its  derivation,  superior  to  that 
which  is  raised  to  a  preference  by  an  arbitrary  standard. 
When  nothing  else  is  lost  by  excess  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
element  in  composition,  rhythm  and  other  musical  quali- 
ties may  be  sacrificed.  Few  things  try  one's  style  so 
severely  as  an  unbroken  succession  of  very  short  words  ; 1 
and  yet  (as  has  been  said)  Anglo-Saxon  words  are  apt 
to  keep  within  two  syllables.  As  to  other  musical 
qualities,  Byron's  contrast  between  Italian  and  English, — 

"  I  love  the  language,  that  soft  bastard  Latin, 

Which  melts  likes  kisses  from  a  female  mouth, 

And  sounds  as  if  it  should  be  writ  on  satin, 
With  syllables  that  breathe  of  the  sweet  South, 

And  gentle  liquids  gliding  all  so  pat  in 
That  not  a  single  accent  seems  uncouth, 

Like  our  harsh  Northern,  whistling,  grunting  guttural, 

Which  we  are  obliged  to  hiss,  and  spit,  and  sputter  all," — 

may  well  warn  the  writer  at  least  to  flavor  his  sentences 
with  the  more  Southern  tones. 

188  b.  A  few  amusing  instances  of  the  riding  of  this  hobby  may 
be  cited.     Mr.  Oliphant's  whole  book  is  an  attempt  to  exemplify 
a  truly  English  diction.2     Yet  he  garnishes  his  pages  with  alien- 
isms,3 and  is  often  driven  to  desperate  shifts  not  to  use  a  non- 
Teutonic  word.     He  writes  maker  for  poet,   calls   the   Latin 
brought  into  England  by  the  Benedictines  in  the  seventh  century, 
"our  first  batch  of  Latin  zcare,"  says  that  "the  lecture  and  the 
reading  desk  speak  to  the  folk,"  and  abundantly  praises  such 
Christian  names  as  Edith,  Ethel,  and  Fridcsivide.     As  a  con- 
sequence, his  style  is  manneristic  to  a  degree, — scarcely  Eng- 
lish, in  fact,  although  it  overflows  with  Anglo-Saxon  words. 
Herbert  Spencer,  too,  praises  Anglo-Saxon  English  as  econo- 
mizing the  reader's  attention  ;  yet  his  own  Vocabulary  is  highly 
Latinized.     Thus,  in  the  third  paragraph  of  his  Essay  on  Style, 
which  contains  233  words,  only  152,  or  less  than  66  per  cent., 
are  of  Anglo-Saxon  derivation  ;  while  of  the  123  different  words 
the  paragraph  contains,  only  60,  or  less  than  49  per  cent.,  are 

»§  189,  below.  2As  defined  by  himself.     (.See  g  167,  above.) 

*l  117,  above. 


THE    CHOICE    OF    WORDS.  I45 

Anglo-Saxon.  Further,  if  the  form-words  (the  prepositions, 
conjunctions,  articles,  etc.,  "the  joints  or  hinges  of  the  sen- 
tence,") be  omitted,  of  159  principal  words,  only  78,  or  about 
49  per  cent.,  are  Anglo-Saxon;  or,  not  counting  repetitions, 
only  48  in  in,  or  less  than  44  per  cent.  In  his  philosophical 
writings  the  case  is  commonly  worse,  as  the  notions  to  be 
expressed  are  more  generally  those  for  which  Anglo-Saxon 
English  has  no  equivalents.     Thus  ; — 

"The  assumption  of  an  objective  source  for  the  subjective 
relatio7i  of  Difference,  is  implied  in  the  last  two  assumptions. 
If,  as  shown  above,  all  special  cognitions  of  spaces  and 
times  involve  cognitions  of  differences;  and  if,  as  shown 
above,  Space  in  general,  which  is  resolvable  into  relations 
of  Co-existence,  and  Time  in  general,  which  is  resolvable 
into  relations  of  Sequence,  are  separable  from  one  another 
as  being  respectively  constituted,  the  last  by  difference  of  order, 
and  the  first  by  no-difference  of  order ;  it  is  clear  that  the 
postulation  of  objective  sources  of  these  subjective  forms,  implies 
postulation  of  an  objective  source  of  Difference.  And  this 
postulation  of  an  objective  source  of  Difference,  equally  implied 
in  all  the  arguments  which  prove  the  relativity  of  the  conception 
of  Difference,  has  for  its  ultimate  warrant  the  deepest  assignable 
warrant — the  Persistence  of  Force.  Though  the  relation  of 
Difference,  constituted,  as  we  have  seen,  by  a  change  in 
consciousness,  cannot  be  identified  with  anything  beyond  con- 
sciousness;  yet  that  there  is  something  beyond  consciousness  to 
which  it  is  due,  is  an  inevitable  conclusion;  since  to  think  other- 
wise is  to  think  of  cli ange  taking  place  without  an  antecedent."1 

The  italicized  words  are  non-Teutonic.  If  every  word  is 
counted  (195  in  all),  less  than  64  per  cent,  are  Teutonic  ;  while, 
of  the  86  different  words,  only  47  words,  54^  per  cent.,  are 
Teutonic.  Form-words  omitted,  the  percentage  is  lower  still. 
Nor  is  this  example  unfairly  technical.  The  result  is  very  little 
better  in  a  less  technical  passage.  For  example,  in  the  follow- 
ing unusually  Saxon  extract  from  Spencer, — 

"On  the  approach  of  any  large  body,  the  shrimps  left  in 
a  tide  pool  make  convulsive  darts  which  may  end  in  remov- 
ing each  of  them  to  a  greater  distance  from  the  approaching 
body,  or  in  bringing  it  nearer,  or  in  leaving  it  almost  where 
it  was.     The  random  leaps  which  a  flea  makes  in  attempting  to 

1  Psychology,  Part  II.  ch.  iv. 


146  STYLE. 

escape  are  of  like  nature ;  showing,  as  they  do,  no  perception 
of  the  whereabouts  of  the  pursuer.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
movements  of  a  crab  or  a  fish  when  alarmed,  are,  like  those 
of  all  higher  creatures,  away  from  the  object  to  be  escaped.  The 
particular  direction  of  something  in  the  environment  is  re- 
sponded  to  by  appropriately-adjusted  motions  of  the  organism — 
the  correspondence  is  comparatively  special"1 — 
though  95  of  the  124  words,  nearly  77  per  cent.,  are  Teutonic, 
yet  of  the  71  different  words,  only  46  or  less  than  65  per  cent. 
are  Teutonic.2  Once  more,  a  laughable  story  is  told  of  a 
certain  Englishman,  so  strong  in  his  love  of  Church  and  State, 
that  he  could  brook  nothing  Roman,  lest  it  should  prove  Popish. 
Declaiming  against  innovations  in  the  Prayer  Book,  he  cried 
out,  "Give  me  the  good  old  Anglo-Saxon  'Table  of  Proper 
Lessons.' " 

189.  (2)  English  has,  no  doubt,  a  large  proportion 
of  short  words  ;  and  the  advantages  they  possess  over 
longer  ones  are  clear, — (a)  economy  of  space  in  printing 
and  of  time  in  speaking,  (6)  compactness  of  structure, 
(V)  simplicity  and  clearness  of  meaning.  But  here  again 
other  tilings  must  be  equal,  (a)  When  addressed  to  the 
ear,  (perhaps,  even  when  written,)  an  unbroken  series 
of  short  words  leaves  the  mind  but  little  chance  to  catch 
the  thought  expressed.  One  word  follows  another  so 
rapidly,  that  the  listener's  attention  is  distracted,  and  he 
has  no  little  difficulty  in  grasping  the  meaning  intended. 
Long  words  on  the  other  hand,  are  often  recognized  in 
their  context  by  their  first  or  their  first  two  syllables  ; 
and  the  mind  is  thus  allowed  the  time  occupied  in  utter- 
ing (or  reading)  the  remaining  syllables  in  which  to 
catch  the  idea.  Thus  the  truest  economy  is  served,  as  it 
often  is,  by  the  largest  expenditure.3  (5)  For  the  same 
reason,  the  closest  compactness  of  structure  is  not  always 
desirable.     True  terseness   implies  grace  and  elegance, 

1  Psychology,  III.  vi. 

3  Pool,  a  Celtic  word,  is  counted  against  Spencer,  but  random,  French  from 
the  Teutonic,  in  his  favor. 

3 Proverbs,  xiii.  7. 


THE    CHOICE    OF    WORDS.  I47 

qualities    impossible,   perhaps,    unless   variety   of   tone, 
accent,  and  movement  is  obtained.     Even  in  verse,  with 
all  its  advantages   of  regular  rhythm,   a  succession  of 
monosyllables  is  often  bald  to  an  extreme.     Thus, — 

"  Think  not  that  strength  lies  in  the  big  round  word, 

Or  that  the  brief  and  plain  must  needs  be  weak. 
To  whom  can  this  be  true,  who  once  has  heard 

The  cry  for  help,  the  tongue  that  all  men  speak 
When  want,  or  woe,  or  fear,  is  in  the  throat, 

So  that  each  word  gasped  out  is  like  a  shriek 
Pressed  from  the  sore  heart,  or  a  strange  wild  note 

Sung  by  some  fay  or  fiend  !     There  is  a  strength 
Which  dies  if  stretched  too  far  or  spun  too  fine, 

Which  has  more  height  than  breadth,  more  depth  than  length. 
Let  but  this  force  of  thought  and  speech  be  mine, 

And  he  that  will  may  take  the  sleek,  fat  phrase, 
Which  glows  but  burns  not,  though  it  beam  and  shine — 

Light,  but  no  heat — a  flash,  but  not  a  blaze  !  'n 


'&' 


Or,  compare  with  each  other — 

(1)  "That  is  a  step 

On  which  I  must  fall  down,  or  else  o'erleap, 
For  in  my  way  it  lies.     Stars,  hide  your  fires  ; 
Let  not  light  see  my  black  and  deep  desires  : 
The  eye  wink  at  the  hand  ;  yet  let  that  be, 
Which  the  eye  fears,  when  it  is  done,  to  see."2 

(2)  "  Me  thought  I  heard  a  voice  cry  '  Sleep  no  more  ! 

Macbeth  does  murder  sleep,'  the  innocent  sleep, 
Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleeve  of  care, 
The  death  of  each  day's  life,  sore  labour's  bath, 
Balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  nature's  second  course, 
Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast."2 

In  prose,  the  monotony  of  accent  due  to  an  unbroken 
succession  of  short  words  may  even  set  up  a  regular 
rhythm  out  of  all  keeping  with  the  subject  and  the  charac- 
ter of  the  work.3     (V)  Short  words  are  not  always  simple 

1  Addison  Alexander,  in  Marsh,  II.  98. — One  of  two  sonnets  written  to  illus- 
trate the  capabilities  of  the  monosyllable.  They  are  not,  says  Marsh,  "  models 
to  be  followed  in  the  selection  of  words." 

^Macbeth,  I.  iv.  4*  and  II.  ii.  35.  3^; 


148  STYLE. 

or  even  clear ;  nor  are  long  words  necessarily  abstruse 
or  obscure.  Faith,  sin,  scorn,  doubt,  wit,  humor,  are  no 
easier  to  define  than  confidence,  trespass,  derision,  hesita- 
tion, ingenuity,  pleasantry ;  and  affection,  cataract, 
imagined,  never-lighted  are  as  easy  to  understand  as 
love,  falls,  fancied,  unlit.  The  child  knows  gingerbread 
quite  as  well  as  cake;  and  the  baby  calls  a  dog  boo-boo  or 
bow-wow.  In  fact,  the  length  of  a  word  is  a  mere 
accident, — an  accident  that  would  hardly  ljave  attracted 
attention,  had  not  so  many  abstruse  or  technical  terms 
been  polysyllabic,  and  had  not  pedants  and  pretenders 
fallen  into  the  error  of  supposing  that  longer  words  are 
necessarily  dignified  and  graceful.  The  evil  in  many 
long  words  is  their  unfamiliarity  or  their  absurd  preten- 
tiousness;1 but  these  faults  are  not  invariably  cured  by 
the  use  of  monosyllables.  The  only  valid  rule  in 
regard  to  length  of  words,  is,  as  in  regard  to  their 
derivation,  to  choose  the  words  that  best  express  the 
thought  intended.  Especially,  in  speaking  to  the 
young  or  the  ignorant,  a  wilful  selection  of  short  words, 
like  a  wilful  simplicity  of  style,  often  exposes  the 
speaker  to  a  charge  of  undervaluing  the  capacity  of 
his  listeners.  Besides,  the  advantage  that  a  natural 
diction  gives  the  speaker  by  way  of  stimulus  to  the 
hearer,  is  literally  thrown  away,  and  success  in  speaking 
correspondingly  endangered.  Dr.  E.  A.  Freeman's 
General  Sketch  of  History  loses  much  of  its  value  by  this 
mannerism.2     For  example  ; — 

England  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  Western  Empire 
during  the  time  of  the  Saxon  Emperors. — Olaf  was  persuaded 
to  become  a  Christian  and  to  make  peace  with  England  ;  so  he 
went  home  to  Norway  and  began  to  bring  in  Christianity  there. 
— He  [Sforza]  was  one  of  a  class  of  men  of  whom  there  were 
then  many  in  Italy,  mercenary  generals  who  went  about  with 
bands  of  soldiers  hiring  themselves  out  to  fight  for  any  prince 
or  commonwealth  that  would  pay  them. 

1  \  1 1  -,,  above.  5Dr.  Freeman  is  also  excessively  Anglo-Saxon. 


THE    NUMBER    OF    WORDS.  149 

190.  (3)  Vocabulary  varies  with  the  thought  to  be 
expressed,  the  subject  of  the  composition,  the  purpose 
of  the  work,  the  mental  capacity  of  the  reader,  the  feel- 
ings natural  to  the  writer  or  to  the  characters  speaking, 
and,  doubtless,  with  other  circumstances.  Hence,  Swift's 
statement  that  monotony  is  a  sign  not  only  of  verbal  and 
mental  poverty,  but  also  of  insensibility.  It  is  "out  of 
the  heart ' '  that  ' '  the  mouth  speaketh, ' '  and  in  no  sense 
more  truly  than  in  that  intended  here.  To  stimulate  a 
reader,  one  must  be  deeply  stirred  oneself. 


2.  The  Number  of  Words. 


191.  The  number  of  words  required  to  express  a  given 
thought  varies,  perhaps,  more  than  any  other  feature  of 
discourse.  At  one  time,  every  added  word  spoils  the 
effect;  at  another,  the  writer  must  grow  all  but  garrulous. 
"Brevity  is,"  indeed,  "the  soul  of  wit";  but  what  con- 
stitutes Brevity  in  a  given  case?  Had  Dr.  Campbell 
reflected  further,  he  would  surely  have  been  less  ' '  certain 
that  of  whatever  kind  the  sentiment  be,  witty,  humorous, 
grave,  animated,  or  sublime,  the  more  briefly  it  is  ex- 
pressed the  energy  is  the  greater,  or  the  sentiment  is  the 
more  enlivened,  and  the  particular  quality  for  which  it  is 
eminent  the  more  displayed. ' '  The  burning  glass  does, 
indeed,  (as  Campbell  goes  on  to  say,)  collect  more  rays 
of  the  sun  into  one  focus,  the  smaller  that  focus  is  ;  the 
liquor  distilled  is  the  stronger,  the  further  the  distillation 
is  carried  ;  but  sometimes  one  wants  diffused  lieht  and 
whiskey  well-watered.  The  usual  belief  that  Brevity 
implies  the  smallest  number  of  words  possible,  is  much 
mistaken,  and  has  led  many  a  good  man  into  ambiguity 
and  other  violations  of  clearness,  actually  defeating  his 
purpose  in  writing.  No  doubt,  faults  in  the  direction  of 
excess  are  far  more  common  than  those  in  the  direction 
of  deficiency  ;  but,  here  again,  the  truest  economy  is  often 


153  STYLE. 

in  the  largest  expenditure — sometimes  in  apparent  waste. 
The  true  doctrine  undoubtedly  is  that  a  composition 
should  contain  every  necessary  word,  but  not  one  word 
more — every  word  necessary,  not  only  to  express  the 
thought  intended,  but  to  express  it  in  the  way,  to  the 
end,  under  the  characterization,  etc.,  intended.  Judicious 
Brevity  does  not  reside  at  a  fixed  point  midway  be- 
tween Deficiency,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Diffuseness, 
on  the  other  :  it  rather  occupies  the  entire  space  between 
these  two  extremes,  sliding  now  toward  that,  now  toward 
this,  as  occasion  or  sufficient  reason  may  warrant.  The 
opposing  considerations  in  any  case  are  like  opposing 
forces  in  nature,  and  Brevity  is  their  resultant.  Among 
these  considerations  are  Grammatical  and  Rhetorical 
Precision,  Clearness  and  Force,1  the  Kind  of  Composi- 
tion; the  Purpose  in  Writing,  the  Capacity  of  the  Minds 
addressed,  Euphony,  Rhythm,  etc.;  but  no  one  of  them 
weighs  always  on  the  same  side  of  the  scale.  The 
student  can  not  be  given  an  absolute  rule  :  he  must  be 
guided  by  his  best  judgment  in  each  special  case,  remem- 
bering that,  his  chief  end  being  always  to  communicate 
thought — whatever  his  special  purpose — Clearness,  the 
prime  quality  of  Style,  must  ever  be  aimed  at  first. 

192.  For  example,  the  historian  Gibbon,  writing  for  scholars 
— certainly  for  students — naturally  carries  Brevity  much  farther 
than  Thackeray,  the  novelist  and  essayist,  whose  aim  is  to 
instruct  by  pleasing.     Compare  ; — 

"The  soil  is  fruitful,  and  the  climate  mild  and  temperate: 
the  happy  region  was  ignorant  of  earthquake  and  pestilence : 
the  emperor's  throne  was  turned  towards  the  East,  and  a 
golden  wolf  on  the  top  of  a  spear  seemed  to  guard  the  entrance 
of  his  tent.  .  .  .  'The  Turks,' he  said, 'are  not  equal  in  number 
to  one  hundredth  part  of  the  inhabitants  of  China.  If  we  balance 
their  power,  and  elude  their  armies,  it  is  because  we  wander 
without  any  fixed  habitations  in  the  exercise  of  war  and  hunting. 
Are  we  strong?  we  advance  and  conquer :  are  we  feeble?  were- 

1 II  254  and  262,  below. 


THE   NUMBER    OF   WORDS.  151 

tire  and  arc  concealed.  .  .  .  No  chastisement  could  be  inflicted 
too  severe  for  flic  rare  and  inexpiable  guilt  of  cozvardice. ' ' 1 

'"I  hear,'  said  he,  'that  there  has  actually  been  no  war  be- 
tween us  of  France  and  you  men  of  England  for  well  nigh  fifty 
year.  Ours  has  ever  been  a  nation  of  warriors.  And  besides 
her  regular  men-at-arms,  't  is  said  the  English  of  the  present 
time  have  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  of  archers  with 
weapons  that  will  carry  for  half  a  mile.  And  a  multitude  have 
come  amongst  us  of  late  from  a  great  Western  country,  never 
so  much  as  heard  of  in  my  time — valiant  men  and  great  drawers 
of  the  long  bow,  and  they  say  they  have  ships  in  armour  that  no 
shot  can  penetrate.  Is  it  so?  Wonderful;  wonderful!  The 
best  armour,  gossips,  is  a  stout  heart.  *  *  *  Of  late,  there  came 
amongst  us  a  good  knight,  Messire  de  Cambronne,  who  fought 
against  you  English  in  the  country  of  Flanders,  being  captain 
of  the  guard  of  my  Lord  the  King  of  France,  in  a  famous  battle 
where  you  English  would  have  been  utterly  routed  but  for  the 
succour  of  the  Prussian  heathen.  This  Messire  de  Cambronne, 
when  bidden  to  yield  by  you  of  England,  answered  this,"The 
guard  dies  but  never  surrenders ; "  and  fought  a  long  time 
afterwards,  as  became  a  good  knight.'  "2 

The  difference,  it  will  be  noted,  is  not  merely  in  the  words 
italicized  ;  it  pervades  the  entire  structure  of  the  two  passages. 

193.  So,  in  a  single  work,  different  passages  will  vary  as  to 
brevity.     Compare, — 

(1)  "  Then  echo-like  our  voices  rang  ; 

We  sung,  though  every  eye  was  dim, 
A  merry  song  we  sang  with  him 
Last  year :  impetuously  we  sang  : 

"  We  ceased  :  a  gentler  feeling  crept 
Upon  us  :  surely  rest  is  meet : 
'  They  rest,'  we  said,  '  their  sleep  is  sweet,' 
And  silence  follow'd,  and  we  wept." 

(2)  "  My  own  dim  life  should  teach  me  this, 

That  life  shall  live  forevermore, 
Else  earth  is  darkness  at  the  core, 
And  dust  and  ashes  all  that  is ; 

"  This  round  of  green,  this  orb  of  flame, 
Fantastic  beauty ;  such  as  lurks 
In  some  wild  Poet,  when  he  works 
Without  a  conscience  or  an  aim."  3 

1  Gibbon,  ch.  xlii.  "  Thackeray,  Roundabout  Papers,  Desseiris. 

3 Tennyson,  In  Memoriam,  xxx.,  xxxiv. 


I52  STYLE. 

In  the  first  stanza  of  the  first  passage,  the  narrative  moves 
naturally  forward,  and  no  ellipsis  would  be  tolerable  ;  but,  with 
silence,  and  while  the  gentler  feeling  crept  upon  the  singers, 
came  reflections,  that,  no  doubt,  presented  themselves  as 
brokenly  as  Tennyson  details  them.  In  the  second  quotation, 
the  nature  of  the  thought  explains  the  condensation. 

194.  Hence,  Violations  of  Brevity  result  from  Deficiency 
as  well  as  from  Excess.  On  either  side  they  occasion 
obscurity,  ambiguity,  imprecision,1  feeblejiess,  flatness, 
tediousness ;  the  vice  of  the  construction  lying  really  in 
these  effects,  not  in  the  number  of  words  used.  For 
example,  Robert  Browning,  it  is  often  said,  is  "caviare 
to  the  general."  And  why?  Surely,  not  alone  because 
the  subject-matter  of  his  poetry  is  abstruse  :  the  riddles 
that  he  sets  his  readers  are  quite  as  often  due  to  the 
excessive  condensation  of  his  style.2  Even  in  his  best 
work,  his  translations  from  Euripides,  the  sense  is  not 
always  clear  ;  while  in  his  own  dramas,  especially  Aristo- 
phanes' Apology,  he  is  often  unpardonably  difficult.3 
Longfellow,  too,  usually  as  limpid  as  a  mountain  brook, 
confuses  his  reader  now  and  then  in  The  Divine  Comedy 
— a  translation,  to  be  sure,  of  a  work  none  too  easy  of 
comprehension  in  the  original.2 

195.  On  the  side  of  Excess,  Violations  of  Brevity  are 
(1)  Tautology,  unnecessary  repetition;  (2)  Pleonasm, 
or  Redundancy,  unnecessary  addition;  (3)  Verbosity, 
unnecessary  fullness.  Verbosity  includes  (a)  Circumlo- 
cution, or  Periphrasis,  "the  long  way  round"  for  "the 
short  way  home;"  (b)  Paraphrase,  intentional  amplifi- 
cation ;  (<r)  Prolixity,  the  accumulation  of  unimportant 
details  or  of  things  that  may  be  assumed  to  be  known. 

'A  rare  word,  but  one  that  expresses  most  accurately  the  opposite  of  pre- 
cision. 

2 See  §  197,  below. 

3  Yet  Browning  can  be  as  clear  as  sunlight — when  he  gives  his  thought  room. 
Such  poems  as  Incident  of  the  French  Camp  and  The  /Joy  and  The  Angel 
confuse  no  one. 


THE    NUMBER   OF    WORDS.  1 53 

Tautology  and  Pleonasm  can  generally  be  corrected  by 
omitting  the  unnecessary  words  ;  Verbosity  can  be  cured 
only  by  recasting  the  whole  work.     For  example  ; — 

(1)  Tautology  :  A  universal  panacea  for  all  the  ills  that 
flesh  is  heir  to. — It  was  almost  intolerable  to  be  borne. — The 
messenger  brought  tidings  of  good  news.1 — Perspicuous  and 
transparent. — If  he  lives  to  become  their  future  emperor. — A 
neutral  is  bound  to  use  due  diligence. 

(2)  Pleonasm  :  The  reason  why  witchcraft  was  ridiculed  was 
because,  etc. — Until  we  both  meet  face  to  face  in  heaven. — Her 
position  was  by  no  means  of  an  agreeable  character. — I  wrote  you 
a  letter. —  Wet  waves,  white  milk,  the  glorious  sun,  ivory  teeth.2 

(3)  Verbosity  :  (a)  Circumlocution; — Pope  professed  to 
have  learned  his  poetry  from  Dryden,  whom,  whenever  an 
opportunity  was  presented,  he  praised  through  the  whole  period 
of  his3  existence  with  unvaried  liberality.  (=Pope  professed 
himself  the  pupil  of  Dryden,  whom  he  lost  no  opportunity  of 
praising  with  unvaried  liberality).4 

(b)  Paraphrase; — Wherefore  he  that  shall  not  only  hear 
and  receive  these  my  instructiohs,  but  also  remember,  and 
consider,  and  practise,  and  live  according  to  them,  such  a  man 
may  be  compared  to  one  that  builds  his  house  upon  a  rock  ;  for 
as  a  house  founded  upon  a  rock  stands  unshaken  and  firm 
against  all  the  assaults  of  rains  and  floods  and  storms,  so  the 
man  who,  in  his  life  and  conversation,  actually  practises  and 
obeys  my  instructions,  will  firmly  resist  all  the  temptations  of 
the  devil,  the  allurements  of  pleasure,  and  the  terrors  of  perse- 
cution, and  shall  be  able  to  stand  in  the  day  of  judgment,  and 
be  rewarded  of  God.5 

1 "  Good  tidings  of  great  joy  "  ( Luke  ii.  10)  is  correct  under  §  196,  (1),  below. 

2  But  see  §  157.  (2)  (<r),  above.     Prose,  however,  usually  avoids  such  epithets. 

3  Whose? 

4Quoted  and  corrected  by  Bain,  I.  ii.  Bain  omits  "  with  .  .  .liberality;"  but 
the  sense  of  the  original  is  not  completely  reproduced  without  this  phrase. 

6Cf.  Matt.  vii.  24,  25. — Campbell  says  the  author  of  this  rendering  of  the  text 
"  is  far  from  deserving  to  be  accounted  either  the  most  verbose,  or  the  least 
judicious  of  the  tribe  "  of  paraphrasts.  Franklin  ridicules  this  "tribe  "  in  his 
Proposed  Nc7V  Version  of  the  Bible.  The  Bible  needs  modernizing,  he  says 
ironically.  How  much  better  it  would  read,  if  Satan,  in  Job  i.  9,  should  not 
say,  "Doth  Job  fear  God  for  nought?"  but  "  Does  Your  Majesty  imagine 
that  Job's  good  conduct  is  the  effect  of  nine  personal  attachment  and 
affection?"     (Works,  Ed.  Sparks,  Boston,  1835,  ii.  166.) 


154  STYLE. 

(c)  Prolixity; — I  have  always  longed  to  know  what  that 
story  was  (or  what  collection  of  histories),  which  a  lady  had  in 
her  mind  to  whom  a  servant  of  mine  applied  for  a  place,  when 
I  was  breaking  up  my  establishment  once  and  going  abroad.1 
(=What  story  or  collection  of  histories  could  a  lady  have  had 
in  mind  to  whom  a  servant  of  mine  once  applied  for  a  place  !) 2 

"  But,  O  my  Muse,  what  numbers  wilt  thou  find 
To  sing  the  furious  troops  in  battle  join'd  ? 
Methinks  I  hear  the  drum's  tumultous  sound 
The  victor's  shouts  and  dying  groans  confound  ; 
The  dreadful  burst  of  cannon  rend  the  skies, 
And  all  the  thunder  of  the  battle  rise. 
'Twas  then  great  Marlborough's  mighty  soul  was  prov'd, 
That,  in  the  shock  of  charging  hosts  unmov'd, 
Amidst  confusion,  honor,  and  despair, 
Examin'd  all  the  dreadful  scenes  of  war ; 
In  peaceful  thought  the  field  of  death  survey'd, 
To  fainting  squadrons  sent  the  timely  aid, 
Inspir'd  repuls'd  battalions  to  engage, 
And  taught  the  doubtful  battle  where  to  rage."  3 

1 96.  The  following'  exceptions,  however,  must  be  noted. 
They  are,  in  fact,  only  apparent ;  for  they  are  fully  justified 
by  the  importance  of  the  ends  they  achieve  : — 

(1)  Synonyms,  especially  when  derived  from  different  lan- 
guages, are  often  combined  to  express  a  thought  not  otherwise 
expressed  so  fully  or  so  emphatically  ;  as,  act4,  and  deed*  ways5 
and  means,*  acknoiuledge5  and  confess *  assemble1*  and  meet  to- 
gether5 head5  and.  front*  en-d5  and  aim,*  aid*  and  comfort* 
the  vision*  and  the  faculty*  divine,*  aid*  and  abet? 

(2)  Clearness  or  other  rhetorical  ends  may  be  promoted 
by  violations  of  Brevity ;  as,  The  poet  is  bom,  not  made. — Your 
sensibility  is  your  livelihood,  my  worthy  friend.  You  feel  a  pang 
of  pleasure  or  pain  ?  It  is  noted  in  your  memory,  and  some  day 
or  other  ma  Ices  its  appearance  in  your  manuscript. — You  tell  me 
that  the  Venus  da  Medici  is  beautiful,  or  Jacob  Omnium  is  tall. 
Que  diable  !  Can't  I  judge  for  myself?  Haven' 1 1  eyes  and  a 
foot-rule? — How  hospitable  they  were,  those  Southern  men! 
In  the  North  itself  the  welcome  was  not  kinder,  as  I,  who  have 
eaten  Northern  and  Southern  sail,  can  testify. — -Lest  at  any  time 
they  should  see  with  their  eyes,  and  hear  with  their  ears,  and 
should  understand  with  their  heart,  and  should  be  converted, 

'Thackeray,  Roundabout  Papers,   On  a  Hundred  Years  Hence. 

2  But  see  jj  196.  (2),  below,  3  Addison,  The  Campaign. 

4  Latin.  6  Anglo-Saxon.  6  Scandinavian. 


THE    NUMBER    OF    WORDS.  1 55 

and  I  should  heal  them. — Addison  describes  a  fan  as  "this  little 
modish  machine"  ;  Swift  called  Defoe  "the  fellow  that  was 
pilloried,  I  have  forgot  his  name";  Milton  suggests,  not  only 
by  a  periphrasis,  but  by  a  clear  tautology,  the  height  from 
which  Vulcan  fell, — 

"from  morn 
To  noon  he  fell, ./row  noon  to  dewy  eve, 
A  summer's  day ;  and  with  the  setting  sun 
Dropt  from  the  zenith  like  a  falling  star 
On  Lemnos,  the  jEgean  isle  ;  " 

and,  instead  of  chancel,  Tennyson  writes — 

"  where  the  kneeling  hamlet  chains 
The  chalice  of  the  grapes  of  God." 

Euphemisms  are  often  long  ; — to  fall  asleep  ;  the  shadow  fear 'd 
of  man;  the  reeling  Faun  ;  are  borne  to  their  long  home ;  the 
undiscovered  country ,  from  whose  bourn  no  traveller  returns ; 

"  She  likes  herself,  yet  others  hates 

For  that  which  in  herself  she  prizes  ; J 
And,  while  she  laughs  at  them,  forgets 
She  is  the  thing  that  she  despises." 

For  emphasis,  such  expressions  are  common  as,  '  Twill  be  a 
long  day  in  which  that  happens  (=1  doubt  that's  ever  happen- 
ing) ;  set  himself  up  above  all  that  was  ever  called  sovereign 
hi  England. 

(3)  Strong  feeling'  often  disposes  the  mind  to  dwell  upon 
the  object  of  the  feeling;  as,  I  am  astonished,  I  am  shocked,  to 
hear  such  principles  confessed ;  to  hear  them  avowed  in  this 
house  and  this  country. — All  is  little,  and  low,  and  -mean  among 
us. — And,  so  speaking,  I  say  that  to  countenance  the  Brahmin- 
ical  idolatry,  and  to  discountenance  that  religion  which  has 
done  so  much  to  promote  justice,  and  mere}',  and  freedom, 
and  arts,  and  sciences,  and  good  government,  and  domestic 
happiness,  which  has  struck  off  the  chains  of  the  slave,  'which 
has  mitigated  the  horrors  of  war,  which  has  raised  women 
from  servants  and  playthings  into  companions  and  friends, 
[7  say  that  to  countenance  that  religion  and  discountenance  /his] 
is  to  commit  high  treason  against  humanity  and  civilization. — 
Cicero  uses  four  nearly  equivalent  verbs  to  describe  Catiline's 
flight  from  Rome,  abiit,  excessit,  evasit,  erupit. 

(4)  Epithets  may  be  used  sparingly  for  rhetorical  effect ;  as, 
I  can't  pretend  to  quote  scenes  from  the  splendid  Congreve's 

1  Note,  too,  the  circumlocution  in  this  line. 


156  STYLE. 

plays.1— The  moon's  soft  light  stands  in  striking  contrast 
with  the  glaring  light  of  the  sun  or  the  lurid  flames  of  a 
conflagration. — Bloody  revolution,  practical  man,  battle-torn 
greenback,  may  point  a  mural  or  even  a  sophism.— The  phrase, 
the  dollar  of  our  fathers,  aimed  to  give  respectability  to  silver 
as  a  legal  tender  ;  the  nickname,  the  dollar  of  our  daddies,  may 
yet  consign  the  coin  to  the  melting  pot. 

197.  On  the  side  of  Deficiency,  Violations  of  Brevity 
have  never  been  classified  ;  but  the  following  specifica- 
tions may,  perhaps,  lead  to  such  a  classification  ; — 

(1)  One  part  of  a  compound  or  joint  expression,  the  whole 
of  which  is  usual  in  expressing  the  sense  intended  may  be 
omitted  ;  as,  Treason  against  the  United  States  consists  only  in 
levying  war  against  them,  or  in  giving  aid2  to  the  enemy. — So, 
butt-end  of  a  gun  or  a  club,  rather  than  butt  or  end. 

(2)  Necessary  words,— yet  such  as  the  context  or  the  evi- 
dent meaning  of  the  sentence  might  supply,  were  the  sense  only 
clear,— may  be  omitted  ;  as,  A  little  dinner,  not  more  than  the 
Muses,  with  all  the  guests  clever,  and  some  pretty,  offers  human 
life  and  human  nature  under  very  favorable  circumstances.3 

(3)  The  structure  of  the  sentence  as  a  whole  may  be  too 
compact ;  as,  Above  the  esplanade,  on  points  of  rock  forming 
shelves,  the  women  looked  down  on  the  dance,  in  holiday  cos- 
tume ;  a  great  scarlet  hood,  a  body  embroidered  in  silver,  or  in 
silk  with  violet  flowers  ;  a  yellow,  long-fringed  shawl  ;  a  black 
petticoat  hanging  in  folds,  close  to  the  figure,  and  white  woolen 
gaiters.4 — I  have  seen  people  who  laughed  at  the  music;  "the 
air  is  monotonous,"  they  say,  "  contrary  to  all  rule,  it  has  no 
ending;  those  notes  are  false."  At  Paris  that  maybe;  but 
here,  no.  Have  you  remarked  that  wild  and  original  expres- 
sion ?  How  it  suits  the  landscape  ! — Even  Poetry,  which  courts 
brevity,  may  carry  this  contraction  too  far  ; — 

1  Thackeray,  English  Humorists.— A  world  of  sarcasm  is  in  that  word 
splendid.  Congreve  was  a  sad  example  of  the  brilliant  man  of  the  world  in 
that  most  dissolute  age  which  he  himself  portraj  s. 

2  The  mind  expects  and  comfoi  t.     (See  g  196,  (i),  above.) 

3  Benjamin  Disraeli  (quoted  by  A.  S.  Hill).— The  clew  to  the  puzzle  was 
brought  to  the  author  by  Mr.  R.  \V.  Davids,  (Sopho.,  U.  of  Pa.,  1880-81  ;  B.S., 
1883,)  from  Isaac  Disraeli's  Curiosities  of  Literature,  Am.  Ed.  1S72,  II.  p. 434  :— 
'"The  elegant  Romans  declared  that  a  repast  should  not  consist  of  less  in 
number  than  the  Graces,  nor  of  more  than  the  Muses." 

*Taine,  A  Tour  through  the  Pyrenees,  translated  by  Fiske—  The  meaning 
is  clear,  but  condensation  is  carried  very  far. 


THE    NUMBER    OF    WORDS.  1 57 

"  Shall  I  sonnet-sing  you  about  myself? 

Do  I  live  in  a  house  you  would  like  to  see  ? 
Is  it  scant  of  gear,  has  it  store  of  pelf? 
'  Unlock  my  heart  with  a  sonnet-key  ?' 

"Invite  the  world  as  my  betters  have  done  ? 
'  Take  notice  :  this  building  remains  on  view, 
Its  suites  of  reception  every  one, 
Its  private  apartment  and  bedroom  too  ; 

For  a  ticket,  apply  to  thePublisher?' 

No  :  thanking  the  public,  I  must  decline — 
A  peep  through  my  window,  if  folks  prefer  ; 

But,  please  you,  no  foot  over  threshold  of  mine  ! 

'"  'Hoity,  toity  !  a  street  to  explore, 

Your  house  the  exception  !    "  With  this  same  key 
Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart"  once  more ! ' 

Did  Shakespeare?     If  so,  the  less  Shakespeare  he !"  x 

'"As  he  willed,  he  worked  : 
And,  as  he  worked,  he  wanted  not,  he  sure, 
Triumph  his  whole  life  through,  submitting  work 
To  work's  right  judges,  never  to  the  wrong, 
To  competency,  not  ineptitude. 
When  he  had  run  life's  proper  race  and  worked 
Quite  to  the  stade's  end,  there  remained,  to  try 
Its  turning,  should  strength  dare  the  double  course. 
Half  the  diaulos  reached,  the  hundred  plays 
Accomplished,  force  in  its  rebound  sufficed 
To  lift  along  the  athlete  and  insure 
A  second  wreath,  proposed  by  fools  for  first, 
The  statist's  olive  as  the  poet's  bay. 
Wiselier,  he  suffered  not  confuse  his  sight, 
Retard  his  pace  a  twofold  aim,  at  once 
Poet  and  statist ;  though  the  multitude 
Girded  him  ever.'  "  " 

"  Twas  at  the  time  when  Juno  was  enraged, 

For  Semele,  against  the  Theban  blood, 

As  she  already  more  than  once  had  shown, 
So  reft  of  reason  Athamas  became, 

That,  seeing  his  own  wife  with  children  twain 

Walking  encumbered  upon  either  hand, 
He  cried  :     '  Spread  out  the  nets,  that  I  may  take 

The  lioness  and  her  whelps  upon  the  passage'  ; 

And  then  extended  his  unpitying  claws, 
Seizing  the  first,  who  had  the  name  Learchus, 

Ami  whirled  him  round,  and  dashed  him  on  a  rock  ; 

And  she,  with  the  other  burthen  drowned  herself."3 

1  Robert  Browning,  House,  stt.  1-3  and  10. — Note  especially  the  last  stanza. 

2Id.,  Aristophai  '      'ogy,  11.  212  fl 

'"■  Dante,  Inferno,  xxx.,  (tran  Longfell* 


I58  STYLE. 

Very  concise  prose  accounts  of  Bacchus  and  Athamas  ( needed 
to  understand  these  verses)  fill  twenty-eight  lines,  two  hundred 
and  fifty  words,  in  Anthon's  Classical  Dictionary,  as  opposed 
to  the  twelve  short  lines,  ninety-one  words,  of  this  passage. 

198.  The  Means  to  Brevity  are  too  numerous  to  be 
mentioned  in  detail.  Some  have  already  been  described ; 
others  will  be  spok'en  of  below.  The  following  seem  to 
require  special  notice  here  ; — 

(1)  Aptly-Chosen  words1;  as,  One  of  the  gentlemen 
noted  down  the  proceedings  of  the  journey,  for  which  Hogarth 
and  a  brother  artist  made  drawings.  (That  is,  One  of  the 
gentlemen  took  notes,  and  Hogarth,  etc.) 

(2)  Compact  grammatical  structure ;  as,  It  would 
appear  that  they  slept  most  of  the m  in  one  room,  and  the 
chronicler  of  the  party  describes  them  all  as  zuaking  at  seven 
o'clock,  and  telling-  each  other  their  dreams.  (That  is,  Most 
of  them  seem  to  have  slept  in  one  room;  and,  according  to 
the  chronicler  of  the  party,  all  woke  at  seven  o'clock  and 
told  each  other  their  dreams.) — I  have  thus  gone  through  the 
circumstances  of  a  life  which  till  lately  passed  pretty  much 
to  my  own  satisfaction,  and  I  hope  in  no  respect  injurious  to 
any  other  man. — (That  is,  Such,  then,  was  my  life,  which  till 
lately  .  .  .  satisfaction  and  ( I  hope)  in  no  respect  injuriously 
to  .  .  .  .) 

(3)  Suggestion  or  Implication;  as,  We  Indian  children 
were  consigned  to  a  school  of  which  our  deluded  parents  had 
heard  a  favourable  report,  but  which  was  governed  by  a  horri- 
ble little  tyrant,  who  made  our  young  lives  so  miserable  that  I 
remember  kneeling  by  my  little  bed  of  a  night,  and  saying, 
"  Pray  God,  I  may  dream  of  my  mother!  "—Most  of  us  tell  old 
stories  in  our  families.  The  wife  and  children  laugh  for  the 
hundredth  time.  The  old  servants  nod  and  smile  a  recognition 
at  the  well-known  anecdote.2 

(4)  Figures  of  speech,  especially  Antithesis,  Metaphor, 
Interrogation,  etc.3 

(5)  Apt  Quotation,  especially  of  familiar  (but  not  trite) 
passages  ;  as,  The  bells  [of  Antwerp  cathedral  ]  go  on  ringing. 

1  §  179,  above. 

-  Even  in  Thackeray's  time,  the  implication  in  "  oil  servants"  was  so  doubtful 
that  the  1    u  reads,  "  old  servants  (though  old  servants  are  fewer  every  day.)" 
3  §§  235  ff,  below. 


THE    NUMBER    OF    WORDS.  1 59 

Quot  vivos  vocant,  mortuosplangunt,fulgurafrangunt;x  so  on 
to  the  past  and  future  tenses,  and  for  how  many  nights,  days, 
and  years  !  Whilst  the  French  were  pitching  their  fulgura  into 
Chassis  citadel,  the  bells  went  on  ringing  quite  cheerfully. 
Whilst  the  scaffolds  were  up  and  guarded  by  Alva's  soldiery, 
and  regiments  of  penitents,  blue,  black,  and  gray,  poured  out 
of  churches  and  convents,  droning  their  dirges,  and  marching 
to  the  place  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where  heretics  and  rebels 
were  to  meet  their  doom,  the  bells  up  yonder  were  chanting  at 
their  appointed  half-hours  and  quarters,  and  rang  the  mauvais 
quart  dlieure  for  many  a  poor  soul.  This  bell  can  see  as  far 
away  as  the  towers  and  dykes  of  Rotterdam.  That  one  can  call 
a  greeting  to  St.  Ursula's  at  Brussels,  and  toss  a  recognition  to 
that  one  at  the  town  hall  of  Oudenarde,  and  remember  how 
after  a  great  struggle  there  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  the 
whole  plain  was  covered  with  the  flying  French  cavalry — Bur- 
gundy, and  Berri,  and  the  Chevalier  of  St.  George  flying  like 
the  rest.  "What  is  your  clamour  about  Oudenarde?"  says 
another  bell  (Bob  Major  this  one  must  be).  "Be  still,  thou 
querulous  old  clapper  !  /can  see  over  to  Hougoumont  and  St. 
John.  And  about  forty-five  years  since,  I  rang  all  through  one 
Sunday  in  June,  when  there  was  such  a  battle  going  on  in  the 
corn-fields  there,  as  none  of  you  others  ever  heard  tolled  of. 
Yes,  from  morning  service  until  after  vespers,  the  French  and 
English  were  at?  it,  ding-dong."  And  then,  calls  of  business 
intervening,  the  bells  have  to  give  up  their  private  jangle,  resume 
their  professional  duty,  and  sing  their  hourly  chorus  out  of 
Dinorah. 

By  this  principle,  also,  may  be  explained  the  value  of 
some  proverbs  and  the  offensiveness  of  others.  There  is, 
indeed,  a  flavor  of  vulgarity  in  the  continual  quotation  of  trite, 
over-worked  sayings  of  this  sort ;  but  there  is  great  effective- 
ness, and  sometimes  a  high  degree  of  elegance,  (as  Trench  has 
shown,)  in  the  apt  quotation  of  sayings  which,  while  they  are 
on  the  people's  tongues,  are  yet  not  hackneyed  by  use. 

1 A  common  inscription  on  bells  in  the  old  cities  is  Vivos  voco,  mortuos  plango, 
fulgura  frango.  Without  the  quotation  the  paragraph  would  lack  connection 
and  significance. 


l6o  STYLE. 

II. 
THE    SENTENCE.1 

199.  The  importance  of  a  correct  structure  for  the 
sentence  can  hardly  be  overestimated.  Success  in  this 
particular  naturally  leads  to  success  in  other  respects  ; 
since  correctness  of  form  in  every  sentence  implies 
a  high  degree  of  perfection  for  the  whole  composi- 
tion. At  the  same  time,  sentence-building  is  not  the 
whole  of  Style.  "Take  care  of  the  Sentence,"  say 
some  teachers,  ' '  and  the  Composition  will  take  care  of 
itself;"  but  the  maxim  is  only  half  true.  There  is  more 
in  the  construction  of  discourse  than  the  construction  of 
its  several  divisions  ;  and  it  is  only  when  the  work  as  a 
whole — not  as  made  up  of  parts — is  completed,  that 
composition  (in  its  fullest  signification)  can  be  said  to 
have  taken  place.  This  will  appear  the  more  clearly, 
the  further  the  student  advances  in  either  the  theory  or 
the  practice  of  his  art. 

1.  The  Order  of  Words  and  Clauses  in  the 

Sentence. 

200.  In  every  language,  Grammar  teaches  certain 
principles  of  Syntax — the  marshalling  of  words  and 
clauses.  These  principles  Rhetoric  accepts,  and  then 
proceeds  to  base  on  them  laws  of  its  own  for  the  greater 
efficiency  of  discourse.  For  English,  these  laws  are  four 
in  number ; — 

201.  (1)  Words  must  stand  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
words  they  modify.     For  example  ; — 

The  estates  of  the  province  and  the  magistracy  of  the  city 
appealed  to  his  Majesty  fr<  im  the  decision  of  the  Duke.  The  case 
did  not  directly  concern  the  interests  of  religion,  for  although 

1  '',,  170,  above. 


THE    SENTENCE — ORDER    OF    WORDS.  l6l 

the  heretical  troubles  of  1566  furnished  the  nominal  motives  of 
the  condemnation,  the  resistance  to  the  tenth  and  twentieth 
penny  was  the  real  crime  for  which  they  were  suffering.  The 
King,  therefore,  although  far  from  clement,  was  not  extremely 
rigorous.  He  refused  the  object  of  the  appeal,  but  he  did  not 
put  the  envoys  to  death1  by  whom  it  was  brought  to  Madrid. 
This -would  have  certainly2  been  the  case  in  matters  strictly 
religions,  or  even  had  the  commissioners  arrived  two  years 
before,  but  even  Philip  believed,  perhaps,  that  for  the  mo)>ient 
almost  enough  innocent  blood  had  been  shed. 

The  words  italicized  are  better  placed  than  they  could  be 
anywhere  else  in  their  sentences  ;  but,  in  the  following 
examples,  the  italicized  words  are  misplaced  ; — 

The  clergy,  too,z  of  the  Province,  having  invoked  the  bull 
"in  Coena  Domini"  by  which,  etc. — The  hundredth  penny 
would  amount*  as  he  calculated,  to  at  least  five  millions. — 
Occasion  will  presently  arise  to  show  how  this  has  happened, 
with  some  detail.^ 

202.  The  want  of  inflections  in  English  gives  to  the 
position  of  words  in  that  language  special  importance. 
Were  English  words  "ticketed,"  as  Latin  words  are, 
much  less  would  be  sacrificed  by  bad  arrangement ;  but 
in  a  language  whose  syntax  is  almost  wholly  "flat"  or 
"phrasal,"  (determined  by  the  position  of  its  words  or 
phrases,)  misinterpretation  is  only  too  likely  to  follow 
disorder.  Confusion,  ambiguity — all  the  offences  against 
that  prime  quality  of  Style,  Clearness — wait  upon 
misarrangement,  and  betray  the  author  to  his  worst 
enemies,  the  readers  who,  because  his  language  is  not 
unmistakably  clear,   force  upon  it  a  meaning  he  never 

1  Or,  put  to  death  the  envoys  f  -  Certainly  have  been  ? 

3  Too  really  limits  the  phrase  the  clergy  of  the  province,  and  ought,  therefore, 
to  stand  after  province.  If  it  would  then  seem  to  limit  only  that  word,  and  the 
emphasis  on  clergy  would  be  lost,  the  words  of  the  province  must  be  omitted 
or,  perhaps,  be  expressed  by  the  adjective  provincial. 

4  Correctly  arranged  by  Motley. 

5  Lanier,  'The  Science  of  English  Verse,  p.  23.— The  more  singular  an  over- 
sight, because  the  author  generally  shows  a  remarkable  command  of  language. 

11 


l62  STYLE. 

intended  it  to  bear.  Strike  out  the  commas  after  calcu- 
lated and  happened,  in  the  two  last  examples  in  §  201, 
and  the  sentences  have  a  meaning  quite  different  from 
that  which  the  eye,  helped  by  the  commas,  sees  that 
they  have.  But  how  shall  these  commas  help  the  ear 
of  a  hearer?  Besides,  punctuation  is  a  lame  support 
for  the  meaning  of  a  sentence, — a  communication  of 
thought  from  mind  to  mind. 

203.  (2)  Modifiers  commonly  precede  the  words  they 
modify ;  as, — 

"  When  rosy  plumelets  tuft  the  larch, 

And  rarely  pipes  the  mounted  thrush  ; 
Or  underneath  the  barren  brush 
Flits  by  the  sea-blue  bird  of  March." 

"  Oh  that  this  too  too  solid  flesh  would  melt  !" 
But  inversions  are  common,  and  not  only  for  emphasis  ; — 

(a)  In  poetry,  for  the  sake  of  the  peculiar  effect  desired  or  of 
metre ;  as,  the  Table  Round, 

"  An  holy-water-sprinckle,  dipt  in  deowe, 
With  which  she  sprinckled  favours  manifold." 
"  By  some  soft  touch  invisible." 

(b)  Even  in  prose  ; — (a)  When  the  modifier  is  phrasal ;  as,  a 
thing  to  be  well  attended  to,  formulas  so  zaidely  divergent,1  not 
of  itself  sl  strong  fortress,  will  lop  out  year  by  year  the  weakest, 
was  heard  on  all  sides;  (/J),  though  very  rarely,  when  the 
modifier  is  flat ;  as,  devastation  universal,  seed  royal. 

204.  (3)  The  Principle  of  Emphasis,  (a)  In  all  lan- 
guages, inflected  or  not,  any  unusual  order  of  words  or 
clauses  attracts  attention,  and  so  declares 2  the  meaning 

1  Really  a  predicate  (formulas  that  are  so  widely  divergent).     Cf. — 

"  A  forester  of  Dean, 
Wet  from  the  woods,  with  notice  of  a  hart 
Taller  than  all  kis  fellows,  milky-white, 
First  seen  that  day  ;  " 

Participles  are  often  so  construed.     The  omission  results,  however,  in  a  post- 
positive modifier. 

2 The  Greek  word  for  declares  in  this  sense  is  inQaivei  {emphainei),  and  from 
it  is  derived  the  noun  emphasis. 


THE    SENTENCE — EMPHASIS.  163 

more  strongly.  (6)  It  is  a  law  of  thought  that  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end  of  a  sentence  are  its  most  emphatic 
places,  and,  hence,  that  special  care  must  be  taken  both  to 
put  emphatic  words  or  clauses  into  these  emphatic  places 
and  to  keep  out  of  the  emphatic  places  matter  that  is  not 
of  particular  importance.  ' '  As  in  an  army  on  the  march, 
the  fighting  columns  are  placed  front  and  rear,  and  the 
baggage  in  the  centre,  so  the  emphatic  parts  of  a  sentence 
should  be  found  either  in  the  beginning  or  the  end, 
subordinate  and  matter-of-course  expressions  in  the 
middle."1     Thus  ;— 

(a)  Unusual  Arrangements ;  (a)  By  inversion  ;  as,  Within, 
the  house  is  full  of  pictures,  engravings,  etc. — Silver  and  gold 
have  I  none. 

"  And  ever  met  him  on  his  way 
With  wishes,  thinking,  here  to-day, 
Or  here  to-morrow  will  he  come." 

The  Rev.  T.  T.  L.  was,  if  ever  man  was,  a  religious  genius. — 
Among  these  [my  friends],  though  I  did  not  personally  know 
him,  I  can  not  but  reckon  him.  (/?)  By  prefixing  a  conjunction, 
an  interjection,  the  case  of  address,  or  something  else  unem- 
pliatie,  in  order  to  throw  special  stress  on  what  immediately 
follows  ;2  as,  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  was  not  at  home  when  you 
were  so  kind  as  to  call.  When  next  you  come  to  town,  etc. — 
Alas !  that  any  one  should  ever  feel  either  teaching  or  learning 
to  be  a  drudgery  ! 

"  O  friend,  who  earnest  to  thy  goal 
So  early,  leaving  me  behind, 
I  would  the  great  world  grew  like  thee, 
Who  greivest  not  alone  in  power 
And  knowledge,  but  by  year  and  hour 
In  reverence  and  in  charity.'1 

Of  sarcasm,  as  morally  distinguished  from  satire,  he  was 
everywhere  and  always  incapable. — Nay,  more,  there  is  scarcely 
a  handicraft,  etc. — In  like  manner,  the  imagination  foretells 
things,     (y)  By  intentional  repetition,  pleonasm,  or  ellipsis  ;  as, 

"  Alone,  atone,  all  all  alone, 
Alone  on  a  wide  wide  sea  ! 

'Bain  (Am.  Ed.),  p.  135. 

2  This  construction  has  been  aptly  compared  to  the  poise  or  halt  of  the  black- 
smith's hammer,  when  he  would  change  the  rhythm  of  his  blows. 


164  STYLE. 

The  lad  can  not  leave  his  father  :  for  if  he  should  leave  his 
father,  his  father  would  die.1 — Haste  ye,  and  go  up  to  my 
father. — Your  fathers,  where  are  they  ? 

"  Unwatch'd,  the  garden  bough  shall  sway, 
Unloved,  the  sun-flower,  shining  fair, 

Ray  round  with  flames  her  disk  of  seed, 

And  many  a  rose-carnation  "feed 
With  slimmer  spice  the  humming  air  ; 
Unloved,  by  many  a  sandy  bar, 

The  brook  shall  babble  down  the  plain, 

At  noon,  or  when  the  lesser  wain 
Is  twisting  round  the  polar  star  ; 
Uncared  ior,z  gird  the  windy  grove." 

(b)  Emphatic  Places ; — "  What  a  pretty  snuff-box  !  "  he  re- 
marked, as  I  handed  him  mine,  which  I  am  still  old-fashioned 
enough  to  carry. — And  this  I  declare  upon  my  honour. — I  appeal 
to  Mr.  Hart,  the  landlord— I  appeal  to  James,  the  respectful  and 
intelligent  waiter,  if  this  statement  is  not  true. — Boy  !  it  was 
happy  for  thy  grandam  that  she  loved  me  not. — Nay  (for  I  am 
making  a  clean  breast,  and  liberating  my  soul),  perhaps  of  all 
the  novel-spinners  now  extant,  the  present  speaker  is  the  most 
addicted  to  preaching.  I  cry  "peccavi"  loudly  and  heartily. — 
Sir,  said  I,  knowing  him  to  be  an  old  friend  whom  I  had  met. 
— Far,  far  away  into  the  past  I  look,  and  see  the  little  town 
with  its  friendly  glimmer. — The  good  old  ladies  would  have 
pronounced  her  to  be  a  little  idle  thing,  occupied  with  her  silly 
books  and  neglecting  her  housekeeping. 

205.  "There  is  nothing  more  urgently  required  for 
the  improvement  of  our  sentences,"  says  Mr.  Minto,4 
"than  a  constant  study  to  observe  this  principle.  It 
is  difficult  to  conceive  when  there  would  be  an  impro- 
priety in  placing  important  words  where  the  reader 
naturally  expects  to  find  them.  The  reader's  attention 
falls  easily  and  naturally  upon  what  stands  at  the  begin- 
ning and  what  stands  at  the  end,  unless  [this  is]  obviously 
introductory  in  the  one  case,  or  obviously  rounding  off 
in  the  other.  The  beginning  and  the  end  are  the  natural 
places  for  important  words.  This  arrangement  is  con- 
ducive both  to  clearness  and  to  elegance  :  it  prevents 
confusion,  and  is  an  aid  to  justness   of  emphasis.     As 

1  Gen.  xliv.  22.  s  Sc.  shall.  3  Sc.  the  brook  shall.  *  Manual,  p.  10. 


THE    SENTENCE — EMPHASIS.  165 

important  words  need  not  occupy  absolutely  the  first  place 
nor  absolutely  the  last,  but  at  the  beginning  may  be  pre- 
ceded by  qualifying  clauses,  and  at  the  end  may  be  fol- 
lowed by  unemphatic  appendages  that  are  not  of  a  nature 
to  distract  attention,  we  are  not  required  to  make  unnat- 
ural inversions  or  to  take  unidiomatic  liberties  of  any  kind. 
If  a  writer  finds  a  construction  stiff  and  unnatural,  he  may 
be  sure  that  he  has  not  succeeded  in  throwing  the  emphasis 
where  it  should  be  thrown  ;  if  he  has  not  buried  the  im- 
portant words  in  the  depth  of  the  sentence,  he  has  prob- 
ably done  worse  :  he  has  probably  drawn  off  the  reader's 
attention  from  the  words  altogether,  and  fixed  it  where  it 
should  seldom  or  never  be  fixed — upon  the  form." 

206.  Yet  Mr.  Minto  thinks  "the  following  out  of  this 
principle"  far  from  easy.  One  may  "hang  as  long  over 
his  sentences  as  Mr.  Tennyson  is  said  to  hang  over  his 
lines,  and  yet  commit  blunders  after  all. ' '     Thus  ; — 

We  spake  anon  of  the  inflated  style  of  some  writers.  What 
also  if  there  is  an  afflated  style, — when  a  writer  is  like  a  Pytho- 
ness on  her  oracle  tripod,  and  mighty  zvords,  words  -which  he 
can  not  help,  come  blowing,  and  bellowing,  and  -whistling,  and 
moaning  through  the  speaking  pipes  of  his  bodily  organ  ? * 

"  Thus  he  came  at  length 
To  find  a  stronger  faith  his  own  ; 

And  Power  was  with  him  in  the  night, 

Which  makes  the  darkness  and  the  light, 
And  dwells  not  in  the  light  alone, 
But  in  the  darkness  and  the  cloud. 

As  over  Sinai's  peaks  of  old, 

While  Israel  made  their  gods  of  gold, 
Altho'  the  trumpet  blew  so  loud."  - 

1  Thackeray,  Roundabout  Papers.— The  thought  is  that  the  writer  is  taken 
possession  of—  like  the  Pythoness.  Arrange,  therefore,  "  oracle  tripod,  and 
through  the  speaking  pipes  of  his  bodily  organ  come  blowing,  and  bellowing , 
and  whistling,  and  moaning,  mighty  words,  words  which  he  can  not  help." 
Thus  arranged,  the  passage  has  the  effect  of  a  climax.     (§  27S,  below.) 

2Tennyson,  In  Memoriam,  xcvi. — Verse  has,  of  course,  its  liberties  ;  but  the 
order  of  this  sentence  weakens  it  more  and  more  from  "  night  "  on, — certainly 
from  the  word  "cloud."  In  1.  4,  darkness  is  the  emphatic  word  ;  the  sense 
evidently  being,  not  only  the  light  but  the  darkness  as  well.  (Compare  the 
nexttwolir.es;  but  remember  that  this  criticism  refers  only  to  the  thought 
expressed,  not  to  the  words  as  constituting  a  verse  of  poetry.) 


1 66  STYLE. 

207.  The  secret  of  success  in  applying  this  principle 
of  Emphasis  lies  in  long-continued  drill, — in  practice 
controlled  by  the  resolve  never  to  leave  a  sentence  unfin- 
ished in  this  respect.  The  evil  results  are  least,  of 
course,  when  sentences  thus  misconstructed  are  spoken; 
for  the  speaker's  voice  or  manner  generally  interprets 
them.  But  no  such  help  is  at  hand  for  the  reader : 
he  must  trust  wholly  to  the  position  of  the  words  or 
clauses ;  and,  if  unemphatic  words  get  into  emphatic 
places,  or  emphatic  words  into  unemphatic  places,  the 
meaning  can  often  be  detected  only  by  a  sort  of 
divination.  With  the  help  of  the  context,  to  be 
sure,  one  can  sometimes  make  out  what  the  writer  must 
have  meant ;  but  the  setting  of  such  puzzles  always 
threatens  the  author's  success,  and  may  prove  fatal  to  it. 
Thus ; — 

If  they  had  only  imputed  to  that  friend  in  after  times  certain 
celestial  attributes,  how  would  that  have  hindered  such  utter- 
ances.1— I  merely  allude  to  it  for  the  purpose. — You  did  not 
know,  poor  Anne,  when  you  framed  those  lofty  purposes,  that 
suffering  is  just  as  hard  to  bear  whether  one  is  noble  or 
ignoble,  good  or  bad.  In  the  face  of  danger  the  heart  is 
roused,  and  in  the  exaltation  of  determination  forgets  its  pain  ; 
it  is  the  long  monotony  of  dangerless  days  that  tries  the  spirit 
hardest.2 

208.  (4)  Modifying-  clauses  either  precede  or  follow 
their  principals.  The  natural,  or  indirect,  order, — the 
order  most  common,  perhaps,  in  free,  unguarded,  informal 
composition — postpones  the  modifier ;  the  inverted,  or 
direct,  order  anticipates  it.  Thus  ; — -I  had  a  capital  half- 
hour  with  Jacob  Faithful  last  night,  when  the  last  sheet 

1  Dr.  Maurice  meant,  If  it  was  only  in  after  tunes  that  they  imputed,  or,  If 
they  had  imputed  to  that  friend  certain  celestial  attributes  only  in  after  times. 
Such  a  misstep  is  rare  in  the  usually  firm  tread  of  Dr.  Maurice's  style. 

2  The  emphatic  words  are,  in  the  face  of  danger,  in  the  exaltation  of  deter- 
mination,  and  the  long  monotony  of  dangerless  days.  The  last  of  these  three 
phrases  is  correctly  placed ;  but  few  readers,  perhaps,  are  quick  enough  not, 
on  frst  reading,  to  emphasize  the  heart  is  roused  and  forgets  Us  pain. 


THE   SENTENCE — MODIFYING   CLAUSES.  167 

was  corrected,  when  "Finis"  had  been  written,  and\when\ 
the  printer  s  bo  v,  with  the  copy,  was  safe  in  Green  Arbour 
Court;  but,  As  some  bells  in  a  church  hard  by  are 
making  a  great  holiday  clanging  in  the  summer  afternoon, 
I  am  reminded. 

209.   But  too  much  must  not  be  inferred  from  the  words 
natural  and   inverted.     Perhaps,    as    Herbert    Spencer 
susreests,1  indirect and  direct  would  be  better  terms,  since 
these  words  express  the  fact  of  the  construction  without 
embarrassing   inferences.     Certainly  it  would   be  most 
unfortunate  to  interpret  natural  as  implying  that  the 
inverted  (direct)  order  is  unnatural.     Style  does,  indeed, 
grow  more  and  more  direct,  as  it  grows  more  and  more 
formal, — that  is,  as  it  casts  aside   more  and  more  the 
neglige    of    conversation    or    letter-writing,     the    free, 
unguarded,    informal  mode  of  discourse  already  men- 
tioned ;  but  neither  order  is  ever  unnatural,   neither  is 
always  better  in  any  style  of  composition.     Monotony 
and  feebleness  necessarily  result  from  the  excessive  use 
of  either ;  and,  hence,  however  informal  a  composition 
may  be,  it  may  use  both  constructions  ;  while  no  style 
ought  ever  to  become  so  formal,  so  grave  or  dignified,  as 
wholly  to  reject  the  indirect  order.     Thus,  in  a  humor- 
ous letter  to  the  lady  he  was  soon  to  marry,  Dr.  Hodgson 
writes,    A   host   of  dresses,    etc.,    are   prepared,    which 
[  =  although  they]  become  old-fashioned  long  before  they 
can  be  worn  out,  and  the  moths  fall  heirs  to  half  the 
properties ;  but,  only  a  few  lines  below,  By  the  way,  I 
am  not  sure  whether  I  told  you  that,  before  you  can  be 
married  in  valid  form,  you  must  pass  an  examination  in 
Economics.     So,  in  a  more  formal  letter, — I  have  de- 
layed reply  .....  until  I  should  be  able,  and,  If  the 
difficulty  be  insuperable  .....   how  much  greater  is 
etc.  ?     Even  a  philosophical  writer  like  Herbert  Spencer 
uses  the  indirect  order,  although  (as  will  appear)  the 

1  Essay  on  Style. 


1 68  STYLE. 

direct  order  is  more  common  in  such  compositions  j1 — 
Of  the  engineers,  contractors,  and  various  others  con- 
cerned, it  may  be  admitted  that,  though  daily  custom 
has  induced  laxity  of  principle,  yet  they  would  be  harshly 
judged,  were  the  transactions  that  may  be  recorded  against 
them,  used  as  tests. 

210.  The  reason  for  prefixing  a  modifier  to  its  modified 
word,  and  a  qualifying  to  a  principal  clause,  has  been 
clearly  stated  by  Herbert  Spencer  to  be  economy  of  the 
reader1  s  or  hearer  s  attention.  In  this  order,  he  affirms, 
the  whole  thought  is  grasped  by  the  time  the  last  word 
expressing  it  has  been  uttered  ;  as,  a  black  horse ;  if  A 
is  B,  C  is  D ;  whereas,  in  the  other  order,  a  different 
idea  may  be  conceived  by  the  mind  addressed,  before  the 
whole  thought  is  uttered  ;  as,  a  horse  [bay  ?  grey  ? 
brown?  no,]  black;  C  is  D,  [always?  if  X  is  Y  ?  no,] 
if  A  is  B.2  The  chief  reasons  for  inverting  the  direct 
order  are  variety  (either  absolute  or  as  occasioned  by  the 
kind  of  writing),  emphasis,  etc.  For  example,  Verse 
may  require  the  inversion  for  the  sake  of  either  the 
metre  or  the  rhyme  ;  the  Drama  and  the  Novel  naturally 
introduce  the  indirect  order  in  dialogue  ;  in  the  first  of 
the  following  sentences,  emphasis  requires  the  words  do 
much  the  same  at  the  end,  and,  therefore,  places  the 
italicized  modifiers  after  the  words  they  modify ;  in  the 
fourth  sentence,  the  modifier  while  ....  enemy  is 
last  placed  apparently  for  variety's  sake  ;  while  in  the 
same  sentence,  the  adverb  at  ...  .  employer  must 
stand  either  where  it  is  or  (and  ludicrously,  of  course) 
after  disbelieve  . — 

"  Men  taken  at  random  from  higher  and  lower  ranks,  would, 
most  likely,   if  similarly  circumstanced,   do  much   the   same. 

Indeed,  the  mercantile  world  might  readily  recriminate 

Does  the  condemnation  come  through  the  press?    The  con- 

1  And  also  although  the  particular  writer  named  is  an  enthusiastic  advocate 
of  anticipation  on  the  principle  of  economy.     (Sec  \  210,  below.) 
-  But  see  \  2ii,  below. 


THE   SENTENCE — MODIFYING   CLAUSES.  1 69 

demned  may  remind  those  who  write,1  of  the  fact  that  it  is  not 
quite  honest  to  utter  a  positive  verdict  on  a  book  merely  glanced 
through,  or  to  pen  glowing  eulogies  on  the  mediocre  work  of  a 
friend  while  slighting  the  good  one  of  an  enemy ;  and  may 
further  ask  whether  those  who,  at  the  dictation  of  an  employer, 
write  what  they  disbelieve,  are  not  guilty  of  the  serious  offence 
of  adulterating  public  opinion."  2 

211.  But  all  these  reasons  may  tend  to  directly  the 
opposite  conclusions  :  economy  may  demand  the  indi- 
rect order;  emphasis,  etc.,  the  direct  order.  "Carrying 
forward  each  qualifying-  clause  costs  some  mental  effort ;  " 
and,  hence,  when  there  are  several  such  clauses,  or  when 
the  time  occupied  by  them  is  considerable,  more  is  lost 
by  the  direct  order  than  is  gained,  and  economy  itself 
requires  the  indirect  order.  On  the  other  hand,  state- 
ments made  in  principal  clauses  are  generally  more 
emphatic  than  those  found  in  dependent  members  ; 
variety  may,  of  course,  overrule  other  considerations  on 
either  side  ;  and  so  on.3  Nothing  will  more  severely  try 
the  student's  judgment  and  taste  than  to  balance  the 
opposing  considerations  that  affect  this  question. 

212.  Sometimes  the  same  principal  clause  is  qualified 
by  two  or  more  dependents  and  it  may  then  be  a  good 
plan  to  distribute  the  dependent  clauses  on  either  side  of 
their  principal  clause.     For  example; — 

At  last,  after  much  fatigue,  through  deep  roads  and  bad 
weather,  we  came,  with  no  small  difficulty,  to  our  journey's 
end  ;4  or  better,  At  last,  with  no  small  difficulty,  and  after  much 
fatigue,  we  came,  through  deep  roads  and  bad  weather,  to  our 
journey's  end.5 

1  Better,  the  -writers,  in  order  to  avoid  the  collocation  write  of. 

8  Herbert  Spencer,  Essays  (  N.  Y.  1S74),  p.  260. 

3See  the  examples  already  given. — The  student  should  be  required  to  give 
in  each  case  the  apparent  reason  for  the  order  chosen. 

4  Vv'hateley's  arrangement  of  "We  came  to  our  journey's  end,  at  last,  with 
no  small  difficulty,  after  much  fatigue,  through  deep  roads,  and  bad  weather." 

5Spencer,  Essay  on  Style,  p.  26.— Spencer  points  out  that  to  anticipate  all  the 
modifiers  "would  not  produce  a  satisfactory  effect":  he  might  have  said, 
would  produce  an  effect  as  unsatisfactory  as  that  of  the  original  order. 


i  jo  style. 

2.  The  Period  and  the  Loose  Sentence. 

213.  The  principles  thus  set  forth  lead  directly  to  the 
distinction  between  the  Periodic  and  the  Loose  Sentence. 
When  a  sentence  follows  the  indirect  order,  whether  of 
clauses  or  of  words,  it  is  said  to  be  loose,  or,  if  the  effect 
of  this  order  is  bad,  to  be  viciously  loose.  On  the  contrary, 
when  predicates  precede  what  they  are  predicated  of, 
and  qualifications  come  before  the  words  they  qualify, — 
that  is,  when  the  order  is  direct, — the  structure  is  called 
periodic,  or,  if  the  effect  is  bad,  excessively  periodic. 
The  sentence  so  produced  is  called  a  Period.  Moreover, 
the  predominance  of  one  or  the  other  of  these  modes  of 
arrangement  gives  its  special  character  to  style,  render- 
ing it  predominantly  loose  or  predominantly  periodic, 
viciously  loose  or  viciously  periodic. 

214.  Hence,  the  proper  term  by  which  to  express  the 
essential  character  of  the  Period  is  Anticipation,  and  not, 
as  is  commonly  said,  Suspense.  Campbell's  definition 
of  the  Period,  a  complex  sentence  in  which  the  meaning 
is  suspended  until  the  close,  has  long  since  been  aban- 
doned in  its  first  part ;  while,  in  its  second,  it  has  been 
boldly  challenged  by  one  writer,  and  ingeniously  ex- 
plained away  by  another.  (1)  A  single  example  will 
suffice  to  show  that  the  periodic  effect,  even  though  de- 
fined as  suspense,  can  be  produced  in  a  sentence  not 
complex  ; — 

In  contemplation  of  her  goodness  his  hard  heart  melts  into 
pathos,  his  cold  rhyme  kindles  and  glows  into  poetry,  and  he 
falls  down  on  his  knees  (so  to  speak)  before  the  angel  whose 
life  he  had  embittered,  confesses  his  own  wretchedness  and 
un worthiness,  and  adores  her  with  cries  of  remorse  and  love.1 

(2)  Prof.  H.  N.  Day,  defining  the.  periodic  structure  as 
' '  one  in  which  the  leading  thought  of  the  sentence  is 
presented  in  the  closing  member, ' '  and  the  loose  order 

1  The  words   in  contemplation  of  her  goodness  are  not  only  emphatic,  but 
modify  all  the  following  clauses. 


THE    PERIOD    AND    THE    LOOSE   SENTENCE.  171 

as  "one  in  which  the  sentence  terminates  with  one  or 
more  dependent  members,"  cites  the  following  loose 
sentence,  which,  however,  satisfies  Campbell's  criterion 
of  suspending  the  sense  till  the  close ; — 

"One  party  had  given  their  whole  attention,  during  several 
years,  to  the  project  not  only  of  enriching  themselves  and  of 
impoverishing  the  rest  of  the  nation  ;  but,  also,  by  these  and 
other  means,  establishing  their  dominion  under  the  government 
and  with  the  favor  of  a  family  who  were  foreigners  that  they 
might  easily  believe  they  were  established  on  the  throne  by  the 
good-will  and  strength  of  this  party  alone." 

In  like  manner,  Mr.  Minto,  though  he  thinks  "it  is 
probably  difficult  to  go  farther  [than  Campbell's  defini- 
tion] without  committing  one's  self  to  general  state- 
ments that  will  not  apply  to  every  period, ' '  yet  reaches 
by  his  analysis  a  conclusion  virtually  the  same  as  Prof. 
Day's. 

215.  The  word  suspense,  it  is  true,  is  no  less  useful 
than  anticipation  in  expressing  the  whole  doctrine  of  the 
Period;  for,  as  anticipation  suggests  the  bringing  forward 
of  predicates  and  qualifications,  so  suspense  suggests  the 
postponement  of  the  principal  (leading)  element  or 
member.  But  the  term  is  not  commonly  used  in  this 
sense.  As  defined  by  Campbell,  it  is  the  postponement, 
not  of  the  leading  member  of  the  sentence,  but  of  the 
complete  meaning  of  the  sentence  for  the  purpose  of 
better  securing  the  reader's  attention.  Are  readers, 
then,  so  hard  to  engage?  Must  a  reader  be  enticed  with 
postponements  of  the  denouement  in  any  case,  as  a  balk- 
ing horse  with  a  wisp  of  hay?  Must  a  writer  resort  to 
unworthy  tricks,  in  order  to  secure  attention  ?  Surely, 
he  should  rather  trust  to  the  weight,  the  attractiveness  in 
itself,  of  the  thought  he  has  to  communicate.  Besides, 
as  already  said,  suspense,  if  put  forward  as  the  differentia 
of  the  Period,  fails  to  define  the  peculiar  structure  in- 
tended.    If  the  word  is  to  be  used  at  all,  it  should  be 


172  STYLE. 

limited  to  denote  the  correlative  of  anticipation — the 
postponement  of  the  principal  elements  or  members  of 
sentences  for  economy's  sake  or  for  other  sufficient 
reasons. 

216.  "The  effect  of  the  periodic  structure  is  to  keep  the 
mind  in  a  state  of  uniform  or  increasing  tension  until  the 
denouement.  This  is  the  effect  stated  in  its  ultimate  and 
most  general  form.  The  effect  that  a  reader  is  conscious 
of  receiving  varies  greatly  with  the  nature  of  the  subject 
matter.  When  the  subject  is  easy  and  familiar,  the 
reader,  finding  the  sentence  or  clause  come  to  an  end  as 
soon  as  his  expectations  are  satisfied,  receives  an  agree- 
able impression  of  neatness  and  finish.  When  the 
subject-matter  is  unfamiliar,  or  when  the  suspense  is 
unduly  prolonged,  the  periodic  structure  is  intolerably 
tedious,  or  intolerably  exasperating,  according  to  the 
temper  of  the  reader.  In  impassioned  writing  the 
period  has  a  moderating  effect,  the  tension  of  the  mind 
till  the  key-word  is  reached  preventing  a  dissipation  of 
excitement.  Gravity,  dignity,  and  such  effects  are 
not  necessary  attributes  of  the  period,"  'but  only  of  long 
periodic  sentences.  ' '  A  lively  interest  may  be  sustained 
as  well  as  a  grave  interest."  x     For  example ; — 

(1)  My  companions  were  utterly  bored,  and  called  down 
curses  on  France.  Their  minds,  strained  by  the  rude  passions 
of  politics,  by  the  national  arrogance?  and  the  stiffness  of 
scriptural  morality,  needed  repose.  They  wanted  a  smiling  and 
flowery  country,  .  .  .  The  sunburnt  peasants,  dull  of  counten- 
ance, sitting  near  a  pool  of  mud,  were  disagreeable  to  them. 
For  repose,  they  dreamed  of  pretty  cottages  set  in  fresh  turf, 
fringed  with  rosy  honeysuckle."  3 

(2)  "  Much  as  a  story  which,  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and 
securing  a  slight  exaggeration  at  each  repetition,  comes  round 
to  the  original  narrator  in  a  form  scarcely  to  be  recog7iized ; 
so,  by  a  little  improper  iuflucjice  on  the  part  of  landowners,  a 

1  Minto,  Manila/,  pp.  6,  7  (condensed). 

2  They  were  Englishmen.  3Taine,  Among  the  Pyrenees. 


THE    PERIOD    AND    THE    LOOSE    SENTEISXE.  173 

little  favouritism  on  the  part  of  members  of  Parliament,  a  little 
intriguing  of  lawyers,  a  little  manoeuvring  by  contractors  and 
engineers,  a  little  self-seeking  on  the  part  of  directors,  a  little 
understatement  of  estimates  end  overstatement  of  traffic,  a 
little  magnifying  of  the  evils  to  be  avoided  and  the  benefits 
to  be  gained — it  happens  that  shareholders  are  betrayed  into 
ruinous  undertakings  by  grossly  untrue  representations,  with- 
out any  one  being  guilty  of  more  than  a  small  portion  of  the 
fraud."1 

This  example  shows  the  effect  of  the  periodic  structure  in 
"unfamiliar  subject-matter."  The  following  absurdity  is  an 
example  of  "suspense  unduly  prolonged." 

(2)  "  Through  great,  low-lying  fields  of  golden  grain,  over 
which  the  evening  breezes  swept  with  impetuous,  light  feet, 
blending  the  radiant  yellow  of  the  corn  and  the  bright,  blood- 
red  of  the  poppies  in  a  glorious  arabesque  of  gold  and  green 
and  scarlet :  past  dark  green  woods  and  gently  rising  knolls  of 
grassy  green :  azuay  round  moss-lichened  boulders,  topped  by 
dark  green  firs,  through  -which  gleamed  the  red  berry  of  the 
rowan:  circling  round  towering  crags,  from  whose  frowning 
peaks  ivy-mantled  ruins  of  hoary  castles  stood  out  bodily  against 
the  glorious  autumn  sky,  the  river  stole  ;  and,  as  the  dreamer 
lazily  guided  the  easy  tiller  and  gently  bellying  sail,  a  great 
happiness  filled  his  soul,  and  he  felt  that  this  in  very  deed  was 
Paradise." 

(3)  "And  from  that  cup  of  sorrow,  which  upon  all  lips  is 
pressed  in  some  proportion,  they  must  submit,  by  the  very  t entire 
on  which  they  hold  their  gifts,  to  drink,  if  not  more  profoundly 
than  others,  yet  more  perilously  as  regards  the  fulfilment  of 
their  intellectual  mission."  2 

The  "tension,"  which  grows  greater  and  greater  as  far  as  the 
word  drink,  is  gradually  relaxed  by  the  two  modifiers  that 
follow  and  loosen  the  sentence.  The  effect  of  stopping  at  drink 
would  have  been  almost  that  of  a  shock.  Compare  the  sudden 
halt  of  the  next  example. 

"  The  faces  of  infants,  though  they  are  divine  as  flowers  on  a 
savanna  of.  Texas,  or  as  the  carolling  of  birds  in  a  forest,  are, 
like  flowers  on  a  savanna  of  Texas,  or  the  carolling  of  birds  in 
a  forest,  soon  overtaken  by  the  pursuing  darkness  that  swallows 
up  all  things  human."  2 

1  Herbert  Spencer,  Essays,  p.  262.  -  De  Quincey  (cited  by  Minto.) 


1 74  STYLE. 

217.  The  student  has  now  before  him  the  grounds  for 
a  decision  which  structure  is  better,  the  periodic  or  the 
loose.  Clearly,  neither  order  is  always  better.  First, 
though  the  direct  order  is,  perhaps,  more  formal  than 
the  indirect,  yet  both  are  used  in  all  kinds  of  writing. 
Secondly,  ' '  in  light  subjects  neatness  or  finish  is  generally 
regarded  as  an  acquisition  ;"  but,  even  here,  "a  caution 
is  needed  ;  rounded  neatness,  if  it  recurs  too  frequently, 

may   become   tiresome Be   not   too  periodic 

neither,  but  let  your  own  discretion  be  your  tutor."1 
"In  unfamiliar  subjects,  care  must  be  taken  that  the  con- 
siderations kept  in  suspense  [placed  last,  that  is,  because 
of  the  anticipations]  be  not  too  numerous  or  too  abstruse. ' ' 
In  this  case,  (as  De  Ouincey  has  remarked,)  exhaustion 
both  mental  and  physical  follows  the  effort  to  carry  along 
to  the  conclusion  the  endless  protases  on  which  this  con- 
clusion, the  suspended  apodosis,  depends.2  Finally,  on 
all  these  points,  the  court  of  last  resort  is  the  judgment 
of  the  particular  writer  upon  the  particular  case,  guided, 
of  course,  by  broad  knowledge  and  refined  taste.  The 
writer  alone  has  before  him  all  the  conditions  necessary 
to  a  judicious  choice;  and  he  must  make  this  choice 
anew  in  each  case  as  it  arises. 

3.  Explicit  Reference. 

218.  The  reference  of  every  word,  phrase,  or  clause  in 
a  sentence  must  be  clearly  indicated.  Otherwise,  the 
sense  grows  doubtful  or  obscure,  and  the  reader  is  left 
either  to  guess  at  the  writer's  meaning  or  to  despair  of 
divining  it.  To  a  great  extent,  Explicit  Reference 
depends  on  arrangement;3  to  some  extent,  it  is  effected 

1  Minto,  tit  cit. 

2See  the  examples  in  I  216  (2),  above—  De  Quineey  himself,  however,  sets 
a  bad  example  on  this  head  ;  and  yet  the  sentences  quoted  from  him  in 
I  216  (3),  are  by  no  means  the  worst  examples  that  could  be  found  in  his  works. 

3l  145  (2),  above. 


THE    SENTENCE — EXPLICIT    REFERENCE.  1 75 

by  the  close  connection  of  the  thought  expressed ;  but, 
in  another  part,  it  is  promoted  by  certain  special 
devices,  the  rhetorical  bearings  of  which  need  to  be  con- 
sidered here.  These  devices  are  (i)  the  use  of  connect- 
ives, (2)  intentional  repetitions. 

219.  (1)  Connectives  are  {a)  conjunctions,  including 
adverbs  and  adverbial  phrases  used  conjunctively,  (b) 
p?-onouns  and  pronominal p/i rases.  The  following  exam- 
ples show  the  value  now  of  inserting,  now  of  omitting, 
connectives  of  the  several  classes. 

(a)  "  Boabclil,  however,1  had  again  retired  to  Velez  el  Blanco, 
on  the  confines  of  Murcia,  where  he  could  avail  himself,  in  case 
of  emergency,  of  any  assistance  or  protection  afforded  him  by 
the  policy  of  Ferdinand.  His  defeat  had  blighted  his  reviving 
fortunes,  for  the  people  considered  him  as  inevitably  doomed 
to  misfortune.  Still,  while  he  lived,  El  Zagal  knew  he  would 
be  a  rallying  point  for  faction,  and  liable  at  any  moment  to  be 
elevated  into  power  by  the  capricious  multitude.  He  had 
recourse,  therefore,1  to  the  most  perfidious  means  to  compass 
his  destruction.  He  sent  embassadors  to  him,  representing 
the  necessity  of  concord  for  the  salvation  of  the  kingdom,  and 
even  offering  to  resign  the  title  of  king,  and  to  become  subject 
to  his  sway,  on  receiving  some  estate  on  which  he  could  live  in 
tranquil  retirement.  But,1  while  the  embassadors  bore  these 
words  of  peace,  they  were  furnished  with  poisoned  herbs,  which 
they  were  to  administer  secretly  to  Boabdil  ;  and  if  they  failed 
in  this  attempt,  they  had  pledged  themselves  to  dispatch  him 
openly,  while  engaged  in  conversation.2 

(a)  "The  rain  came  and  covered  all  objects  with  its  blinding 
veil.  An  hour  later,  the  drained  clouds  were  creeping  along 
half  way  up  the  height ;  the  dripping  rocks  shone  through  a 
dark  varnish,  like  blocks  of  polished  mahogany.  Turbid 
water  went  boiling  down  the  swollen  cascades ;  the  depths 
of  the  gorge  were  still  darkened  by  the  storm  ;  but  a  tender 
light  played  over  the  wet  summits,  like  a  smile  bathed  in  tears. 
The  gorge  opened  up ;  the  arches  of  the  marble  bridges  sprang 
lightly  into  the  limpid  air,  and,  sheeted  in  light,  Luz  was  seen 

1  jg  250  ff,  below. 

'Irving,  The  Conquest  of  Granada,  vol.  i.,  ch.  xlv. — The  passage  exemplifies, 
perhaps,  the  maximum  number  of  conjunctions  in  ordinary  cases. 


176  STYLE. 

seated  among  sparkling  meadows  and  fields  of  millet  in  full 
bloom."1 

(a)  He  attaches  to  himself  all  the  placeholders,  with  their 
numerous  connexions,  and  also  [=  as  well  as~\  all  the  expecters 
and  hopers  of  places,  which  will  form  a  strong  party  in  pro- 
moting his  views.2 — The  style,  being  obsolete,  and  thence 
less  agreeable,  is  perhaps  one  reason  why  the  reading  of  that 
excellent  book  is  of  late  so  much  neglected.2 — This  is,  in 
some  measure,  to  be  attributed  to  their  situation,  .  .  .  ,  but  is 
also  to  be  attributed,  etc. — As  fully  as  brevity  permits,  I  will 
state  some  of  my  views  on  general  questions,  as  well  as  on  this 
special  subject. 

(d)  All  that  he  said  made  his  students  feel  that  Economics 
only  played,  etc. — He  used  to  tell  of  a  student  of  natural  his- 
tory, who,  when  addressed  as  an  entomologist,  exclaimed,  etc. — 
Those  who  knew  Dr.  Hodgson's  career  must  have  recognized 
that  he  was  a  man  of  the  widest  intellectual  sympathies ;  and  it 
was  this  width  of  sympathy  //m/made  his  teaching  on  Economics 
so  interesting  and  so  true. — Such  a  requisition  as  will  shield. — 
Dr.  Hodgson's  class  was  small,  and  it  was  on  this  accoimt 
easier  for  him  to  know  each  man.3 

220.  The  excessive  use  of  connectives  is  a  violation  of 
Brevity,  and  necessarily  enfeebles  the  style.4  When  the 
arrangement  of  the  sentence  or  the  close  connection  of 
the  thought  expressed  suffices  for  explicit  reference,5  the 
use  of  any  special  device  is,  of  course,  a  waste  of  force, 
and  should  be  carefully  avoided.  But  the  persistent  and 
unreasoning  omission  of  connectives  is  equally  a  viola- 
tion of  judicious  Brevity,4  and  is  equally  to  be  shunned. 
Between  these  two  extremes,  lies  a  field  within  which, 
not  Brevity  alone,  but  the  further  consideration  of 
Explicit  Reference,  controls  the  insertion  or  the  omission 
of  connectives.  The  following  examples  illustrate  the 
question  as  thus  generally  stated  ; — 

1  Taine,  Pyrenees,  p.  171. — A  good  example  of  perhaps  the  minimum  use  of 
conjunctions  in  an  ordinary  case. 

-  Franklin,  Works  ed.  Sparks  (Boston,  1S36),  vol.  ii.  p.  166. 

3  Other  examples  may  be  found  in  the  quotations  above  and  in  those  of  the 
next  paragraph. 

*H  191  ff,  above.  bl  2iS,  above. 


THE   SENTENCE — EXPLICIT    REFERENCE.  I77 

(1)  "I  knew  two,  that  were  Competitors  for  the  Secretaries 
Place,  in  Queen  Elizabeths  time,  and  yet  kept  good  Quarter 
between  themselves  ;  And  would  conferre,  one  with  another, 
upon  the  Businesse  ;  And  the  one  of  them  said,  That  to  be  a 
Secretary,  in  the  Declination  of  a  Monarchy,  was  a  Ticklish 
Thing,  and  that  he  did  not  affect  it."  * 

(2)  "This  Orthon,  the  familiar  spirits,  Queen  Mab,  are  the 
poor  little  popular  gods,  children  of  the  pool  and  the  oak,  en- 
gendered by  the  melancholy  and  awe-struck  reveries  of  the 
spinning  maiden  and  the  peasant.  A  great  state-religion  then 
overshadowed  all  thoughts  ;  doctrine  ready-made  was  imposed 
upon  them  ;  men  could  no  longer,  as  in  Greece  or  Scandinavia, 
build  the  great  poem  which  suited  their  manners  and  mind."2 

(3)  "If  ever  there  was  a  proselyte  of  whom  a  proselyting  sect 
would  have  been  proud,  it  was  Lord  George  [Gordon]  ;  not 
only  because  he  was  a  man  of  high  birth  and  rank  ;  not  only 
because  he  had  been  a  member  of  the  legislature  ;  but  also 
because  he  had  been  distinguished  by  the  intolerance,  nay,  the 
ferocity,  of  his  zeal  for  his  own  form  of  Christianity."3 

(4)  Lord  George  [Gordon]  was  a  proselyte  of  whom  a  prose- 
lytising sect  might  well  have  been  proud.  He  was  a  man  of  high 
birth  and  rank ;  he  had  been  a  member  of  the  legislature  ;  he 
had  been  distinguished  by  the  intolerance,  the  ferocity,  of  his 
zeal  for  his  own  form  of  Christianity. 

(4)  "  It  was  therefore  absolutely  necessary  to  ascertain  what 
resources  each  party  possessed,  to  bring  the  long  and  intricate 
account  between  them  to  a  close,  and  to  assign  to  each  a  fair 
portion  of  assets  and  liabilities." — Insert  in  order  before  either 
to  ascertain  or  to  bring,  and  the  sense  is  materially  changed. 

221.  The  excessive  use  of  the  Relative  Pronoun  and 
other  relative  words  as  connectives  is  a  special  indication 
of  weakness.  Such  constructions  as,  the  rock  on  which 
his  fortress  was  built ;  Christian  captives,  who  had  been 
carried  off  by  these  war-hawks  of  the  mountains  ;  Hamet 
el  Zegri  had  scarcely  returned  to  Ronda,  when  he  re- 
ceived intelligence  ;  etc. ,  are,   of  course,   quite  unobjec- 

1  Bacon's  Essays,  Ed.  W.  Aldis  Wright,  pp.  93,  94. 

-  Taine,  Among  the  Pyrenees,  translated  by  Fiske,  p.  166. — But  one  connective 
(the  italicized  and)  is  used  that  could  possibly  have  been  left  out. 

3MacauIay,  Speeches,  Tauchnitz  Ed.,  I.  141. 


IjS  STYLE. 

tionable,  and  are  incessantly  occurring  ;  but  even  these 
and  other  legitimate  uses  of  the  relative  must  not  occur 
too  often.  Nothing,  perhaps,  is  more  puerile  ;  nothing, 
perhaps,  is  less  to  be  defended.  Older  English,  it  is 
true,  imitating  Greek  and  Latin,  used  the  relative,  not 
only  between  clauses,  but  even  between  sentences  ; l  but 
more  recent  English  has  sought  to  correct  the  abuse. 
As  will  be  seen,2  Unity  is  often  destroyed  by  "tagging" 
a  relative  construction  to  a  complete  thought  ;  and,  even 
when  this  is  not  the  case,  the  relative  has  such  a  propen- 
sity to  occur  again  and  again,  that  variety  often  demands 
the  substitution  of  other  constructions.  The  following 
hints  on  this  subject  are  given  by  Dr.  Abbott  ;3 — 

Equivalents  for  the  Relative; — (a)  Participle  or  Adjec- 
tive ;  as,  Men  thirsting  for  Men  that  thirst. — Caesar,  dead  and 
turned  to  clay,  for  Caesar,  when  dead. — But  this  construction  is 
sometimes  ambiguous, — as,  Fluellen,  touched  with  choler, — 
and,  if  the  subject  is  modified — as,  Those  men  thirsting — is 
very  harsh. 

(b)  Infinitive ;  as,  He  was  the  first  to  enter  {that  entered)  the 
room. 

(r)  Clause  with  if,  when,  because,  etc.  ;  as,  If  a  man  has  no 
music  in  his  soul  (The  man  that  has). 

(d)   What;  as,  77m/  which  you  know  (  What  yon  know.) 

(i?)  Omission  of  the  Relative ;  as,  The  errand  {that)  he  was 
going  on.4 

(f)  The  demonstrative  or  personal  pronoun  with  a  conjunc- 
tion ;  as,  He  did  his  best,  and  this  {which)  was  all  that  could 
be  expected  of  him. 

222.  (2)  Repetitions  for  the  sake  of  Explicit  Reference 
need  not  be  classified :  almost  any  repetition  would  be  toler- 
able by  which  clearness,  force,  or  emphasis  was  secured, 
and  other  important  considerations  not  lost  sight  of.  Still, 
since  such  repetitions  can  not  (like  certain  other  devices 

1  §  255,  below.  2g  243  ff,  below  3  How  to  1 1 'rite  Clearly,  R.  10. 

4  Dr.  Abbott  mentions,  also,  (/")  the  old  relative  words  "(.'hereby,  wherein,  etc., 
as,  The  means  whereby;  but  the  construction  is  archaic. 


LONG  AND  SHORT  SENTENCES.         1 79 

of  style)  be  concealed,  they  should  be  used  sparingly. 
The  following"  examples  must  be  studied  carefully  ; — 

This  is  the  advice  of  one  who  has  been  their  servant,  who 
has  served  them  loyally,  and  who  is  still  sincerely  anxious  for 
their  credit  and  for  the  welfare  of  the  empire  of  which  they  are 
the  guardians, — a  country  which  enjoys  the  blessings  of  a  pure 
religion,  of  freedom,  of  order. — So  much  for  the  first  charge, 
the  charge  of  disobedience. — On  the  most  important  questions, 
on  the  question  whether  a  war  shall  be  declared,  on  the  question 
whether  a  treaty  shall  be  concluded,  on  the  question  whether 
the  whole  system  of  land  revenue  established  in  a  great  province 
shall  be  changed,  his  single  vote,  etc. — Suppose  that  George 
the  Third  had  not  recovered,  that  l  the  rest  of  his  long  life  had 
been  passed  in  seclusion,  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  would  then 
have  been,  etc.2 — He  ordered  that  none  should  sally  forth  to 
skirmish,  without  permission  from  their  commanders  ;  that  none 
should  set  fire  to  the  woods  on  the  neighboring  mountains  ;  and 
that  all  word  of  security  given  to  Moorish  places  or  individuals, 
should  be  inviolably  observed.3 

4.  Long  and  Short  Sentences. 

223.  Another  important  question  is  the  Length  of  the 
Sentence.  Not  that  any  sentence  is  objectionable  simply 
because  it  is  very  short  or  simply  because  it  is  very  long; 
for  the  length  of  every  sentence  is  determined  chiefly  by 
the  thought  it  has  to  convey.  But  a  sentence  is  certainly 
too  short  if  it  restricts  the  proper  expansion  of  the 
thought,  and  too  long  if  it  expands  the  thought  too  far, 
or  grows  involved  and  therefore  obscure.  "Jesus  wept ' ' 
is  as  complete  a  sentence  as  "For  I  am  persuaded,  that 
neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor 
powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor 
height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be  able 

'Were  this  word  left  out,  the  following-  clause  would  naturally  be  taken  for 
the  conclusion,  at  least  until  the  word  then  was  reached. 

2Macaulay's  Spercltrs. 

3  Irving,  Conquest  of  Granada,  ii.  2. — The  sense  might  be  clear  without  the 
that's,  but  it  is  certaiul)  clearer  with  them. 


I  SO  STYLE. 

to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord  ; ' '  but  ' '  The  sixteenth  century  was  com- 
paratively a  time  of  light,"  is  too  short,  because  it  leaves 
the  reader  perplexed,  till,  as  he  continues  the  paragraph, 
he  learns, — 

"  Yet  even  in  the  sixteenth  century  a  considerable  number  of 
those  who  quitted  the  old  religion  followed  the  first  confident 
and  plausible  guide  who  offered  himself,  and  were  soon  led  into 
errors  far  more  serious  than  those  they  had  renounced.  Thus 
Matthias  and  Kniperdoling,  apostles  of  lust,  robbery,  and 
murder,  were  able  for  a  time  to  rule  great  cities.  In  a  darker  age 
such  false  prophets  might  have  founded  empires ;  and  Chris- 
tianity might  have  been  distorted  into  a  cruel  and  licentious 
superstition,  more  noxious  not  only  than  Popery,  but  even 
than  Islamism."  l 

So,  "John  Eliot,  the  'Apostle  to  the  Indians,'  was 
born  in  England  and  educated  at  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, coming  to  Boston  in  1631,  and  accepting  as  his 
life-mission,  the  next  year,  the  conversion  of  the  Indians, 
who  were  evidently,  in  his  opinion,  the  descendants  of 
the  lost  tribes  of  Israel,"  is  too  long,  because  it  confuses 
the  birth  and  education  of  Eliot  with  his  coming  to 
Boston,  his  accepting  a  certain  mission,  and  his  being  of 
such  and  such  an  opinion.2 

224.  At  the  same  time,  a  writer  can  not  be  too  strictly 
on  his  guard  to  keep  his  sentences  from  running  to  an 
extreme  on  either  side, — into  disjointedness,  on  the  one 
hand — into  intricacy,  on  the  other.  Early  English  prose 
is  much  disfigured  by  excessive  length  of  sentence.  The 
writers  "did  not  know  when  to  stop.  They  seem  to 
have  been  afraid  to  let  a  sentence  out  of  their  hands  till 
they  had  tacked  on  all  the  more  important  qualifications 
of  the  main  statement."  On  the  other  hand,  some 
writers   have   affected   brevity    of    sentence,    and    have 

1  Throw  the  first  two  sentences  together. 

'Write,  "John  Eliot  .  .  .  Cambridge.  Coming  .  .  .  1631,  the  next  year  he 
accepted  as  his  life-mission,  the  conversion  .  .  ." 


LONG    AND   SHORT   SENTENCES.  l8l 

thereby  produced  a  style  that  Coleridge  calls  asthmatic, — 
a  style  ' '  purposely  invented  for  persons  troubled  with  the 
asthma  to  read,  and  for  those  to  comprehend  who  labour 
under  the  more  pitiable  asthma  of  a  short-witted  intel- 
lect."    Nor  is  either  fault  only  ancient.     In  most  recent 
times,  excesses  have  been  committed  in  both  directions. 
Ruskin,  for  instance,  often  lets  his    Pegasus   get  away 
with  him,  and  is  unable  to  pull  up  until  after  a  long  run. 
One  paragraph  in    The  Poetry  of  Architecture 1  contains 
four  hundred  and  eight  words,  and  only  seven  sentences. 
Of  these  two  are  reasonable  in  length,  four  quite  long, 
and  one  contains  one  hundred  and  five  words,  compris- 
ing nine  clauses.     On  the  other  hand,  a  recent  writer  of 
historico-religious  novels  has  ten  sentences  in  a  single  para- 
graph of  one  hundred  and  twenty  words,  the  longest  sen- 
tence containing  onlv  twenty-six  words  and  four  clauses. 
225.  The    effects    produced    by   the    short    sentence 
are  lightness,  vivacity  and  disjointedness  ;  by  the  long 
sentence,  dignified  seriousness  and  continuousness.   Each 
has  its  advantages.     The  former  is  easier  to  apprehend  ; 
the  latter  "affords  more  room  to  expand  the  sense." 
To  this  may  be  given  a  stateliness  of  march  ;  that  is  the 
vehicle  of  impetuous  or  interrupted  speech.     The  intel- 
lect dictates  long  sentences  ;  shorter  ones  flow  from  the 
feelings,    or   express  decisions  of  the  will.     Variety,   if 
nothing  more,   would  demand  an  alternation  ;  so  that, 
"here,  too,  discretion  is  the  tutor."     Excess  in  the  one 
way  produces  brokenness,   a  want  of  sequence  in  the 
thought,   and  a  sense  of  unsatisfiedness ;   in  the  other 
direction,  prolixity,  ambiguity,   and  a  general  sense  of 
bccloudcdncss.     In  the  former  case,    the  mind  has  not 
time  enough  to  dwell  upon  each  thought  as  it  is  pre- 
sented ;   in  the  latter,  the  sentence  weighs  on  the  mind 
lik2  a  fog  that  will  not  lift.     For  example ; — 

1  Published  anonymously,  but  evidently  Ruskin's.     Cf.  The  Stones  of  Venice, 
ch.  xvi.  10,  2d  paragraph.     One  sentence  has  eighty-six  words,  and  six  clauses. 


182  STYLE. 

(i)  "Corruption,  you  all  know,  is  the  subject  of  penal  laws. 
If  it  is  brought  home  to  the  parties,  they  are  liable  to  severe 
punishment.  Although  it  is  not  often  that  it  can  be  brought 
home,  yet  there  are  instances.  I  remember  several  men  of 
large  property  confined  in  Newgate  for  corruption.  Penalties 
have  been  awarded  against  offenders  to  the  amount  of  five 
hundred  pounds.  Many  members  of  Parliament  have  been 
unseated  on  account  of  the  malpractices  of  their  agents.  But 
you  can  not,  I  am  afraid,  repress  intimidation  by  penal  laws. 
Such  laws  would  infringe  the  most  sacred  rights  of  property. 
How  can  I  require  a  man  to  deal  with  tradesmen  who  have 
voted  against  him,  or  to  renew  the  leases  of  tenants  who  have 
voted  against  him  ?    What  is  it  that  the  Jew  says  in  the  play  ? 

'  I'll  not  answer  that, 
But  say  it  is  my  humour.' 

Or,  as  a  Christian  of  our  own  time  has  expressed  himself,  '  I 
have  a  right  to  do  what  I  will  with  my  own.'  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  weight  in  the  reasoning  of  Shylock  and  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle."1 

In  these  sentences,  disjointedness  is  carried  almost  (perhaps, 
quite)  to  abruptness  ;  but  other  sentences  immediately  follow- 
ing, redeem  in  some  measure  their  predecessors.  Besides,  as 
Minto  remarks,  "  the  use  of  a  startling  series  of  short  sentences 
may  almost  be  said  to  be  a  feature  of  English  oratory."  It 
certainly  is  a  feature  (and  a  marked  feature)  of  Macaulay's 
oratory. 

(2)  "  From  an  early  age  I  have  felt  a  strong  interest  in  Edin- 
burgh, although  attached  to  Edinburgh  by  no  other  ties  than 
those  which  are  common  to  me  with  multitudes  ;  that  tie  which 
attaches  every  man  of  Scottish  blood  to  the  ancient  and 
renowned  capital  of  our  race  ;  that  tie  which  attaches  every 
student  of  history  to  the  spot  ennobled  by  so  many  great  and 
memorable  events;  that  tie  which  attaches  every  traveller  of  taste 
to  the  most  beautiful  of  British  cities ;  and  that  tie  which  attaches 
every  lover  of  literature  to  a  place  which,  since  it  has  ceased  to 
be  the  seat  of  empire,  has  derived  from  poetry,  philosophy,  and 
eloquence  a  far  higher  distinction  than  empire  can  bestow.  I 
do  not  mean  to  say  that  thought,  discussion,  and  the  new  phe- 
nomena produced  by  the  operation  of  a  new  representative 
system,  have  not  led  me  to  modify  some  of  my  views  on  questions 

1  Macaulay,  Speech  on  the  Edinburgh  Election,  May  1839. 


LONG  AND  SHORT  SENTENCES.         183 

of  detail ;  but,  with  respect  to  the  fundamental  principles  of 
government,  my  opinions  are  still  what  they  were  when,  in 
1831  and  1832,  I  took  part,  according  to  the  measure  of  my 
abilities,  in  that  great  pacific  victory  which  purified  the  represen- 
tative system  of  England,  and  which  first  gave  a  real  represen- 
tative system  to  Scotland.  Even  at  that  time,  gentlemen,  the 
leaning  of  my  mind  was  in  favour  of  one  measure  to  which 
the  illustrious  leader  of  the  Whig  party,  whose  name  ought 
never  to  be  mentioned  without  gratitude  and  reverence  in  any 
assembly  of  British  electors,  I  mean  Earl  Grey,  was  understood 
to  entertain  strong  objections,  and  to  which  his  Cabinet,  as  a 
Cabinet,  was  invariably  opposed."1 

Aided,  though  it  is,  by  a  special  artifice,2  the  first  sentence 
grows  tedious,  though  not  ambiguous  or  confused  ;  the  thought 
expressed  by  the  second  sentence  is  certainly  not  easily  carried 
along  to  the  close  ;  and  the  last  sentence  has  two  parentheses. 
Still,  no  one  of  these  sentences  reaches  the  dense  fogginess  of 
the  next  example. 

(2)  Certainly,  if  we  examine  that  love  of  power,  which  enters 
so  largely  into  most  practical  calculations — nay,  which  our 
Utilitarian  friends  have  recognized  as  the  sole  end  and  origin, 
both  motive  and  reward,  of  all  earthly  enterprises,  animating 
alike  the  philanthropist,  the  conqueror,  the  money-changer, 
and  the  missionary — we  shall  find  that  all  other  arenas  of  ambi- 
tion, compared  with  this  rich  and  boundless  one  of  Litera- 
ture, meaning  thereby  whatever  respects  the  promulgation  of 
Thought,  are  poor,  limited,  and  ineffectual. 

226.  But  even  quite  long  sentences  may  not  be  on 
that  account  objectionable.     Thus; — 

"As  for  me,  I  was,  as  I  have  already  said,  very  quick  and 
lively,  easily  moved  by  novelty,  fond  of  intellectual  pleasures, 
interested  in  observing  so  many  persons  all  unknown  to  me  ; 
and  I  found  favor  with  my  new  sovereign,  because,  as  I  have 
said  elsewhere,  I  took  pleasure  in  listening  to  him." 

"Although  Bonaparte  would  have  been  angry  if  any  one  had 
seemed  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  utterances,  which  were  at 
this  period  entirely  republican,  he  introduced  some  novelties 
into  his  manner  of  life  every  day,  which  tended  to  give  the 
place  of  his  abode  more  and  more  resemblance  to  the  palace 
of  a  sovereign." 

1  Macaulay,  Speech  on  the  Edinburgh  Election,  May  1839.         -$  222,  above. 


184  STYLE. 

227.  Length  of  sentence  often  results  from  excessive  period- 
icity ;  but  there  is  no  necessary  connection  between  the  Period 
and  the  Long  Sentence.  When  the  periodic  form  is  used 
to  promote  neatness  or  finish,  the  sentence  is  often  very 
short,  never  unreasonably  long ;  while  loose  sentences,  simply 
because  they  are  loose,  seem  longer  than  they  really  are.  At  the 
same  time,  periodicity  and  length  of  sentence  are  so  common 
together,  that  the  phrase  Periodic  Style1  would  never,  perhaps, 
be  used  of  work  in  which  short  sentences  predominated,  or 
Abrupt  Style  {Style  coupe)"1  of  work  in  which  long  sentences 
were  in  the  majority.  The  examples  already  given  sufficiently 
illustrate  this  point. 

228.  When  a  sentence  must,  in  the  judgment  of  the 
writer,  grow  unusually  long,  its  several  members  should 
be  most  carefully  connected  in  accordance  with  the  rules 
for  Explicit  Reference.  Any  device,  not  otherwise  ob- 
jectionable, may  be  resorted  to,  provided  it  serves  the 
purpose  of  guiding  the  reader  more  surely  though  the 
maze.     For  example  ; — 

' '  Bad  as  a  despotism  is,  yet,  where  anarchy  is  the  only  alter- 
native, we  must  say,  that,  as  anarchy  would  bring  greater  suf- 
fering than  despotism  brings,  despotism  is  justified  by  the  cir- 
cumstances. And  similarly,  however  inequitable  in  the 
abstract  were  the  beheadings,  [Hie]  hangings,  and  [the]  burn- 
ings of  ruder  ages,  yet,  if  it  be  shown  that  without  penalties 
thus  extreme,  the  safety  of  society  could  not  have  been  insured 
— if,  in  their  absence ,  the  increase  of  crime  would  have  inflicted  a 
larger  total  of  evil,  and  that,  too,  on  peaceable  members  of  the  com- 
munity ;  then  it  follows  that  morality  warranted  this  severity." 

5.  The  Balanced  Sentence. 

229.  Sentences  that  have  their  different  parts  alike  in 
form,  are  said  to  be  balanced:  the  parts  are  equal  or 
nearly  equal  both  in  the  amount  of  thought  expressed 
and  in  the  number  of  words  used  to  express  it,  and, 
hence,  they  may  properly  be  said  to  be  weighed  against 
each  other.     Thus  ; — 

1 1  213,  above. 

-  A  style  marked  by  disjointedness  due  to  shortness  of  sentence.    Q  225,  above.) 


THE  BALANCED  SENTENCE.  185 

We  might  have  held  out  hopes  of  public  employment  to  eon- 
verts,  and  have  imposed  civil  disabilities  on  Mahometans  and 
Pagans. — Our  plain  clothing  commands  far  more  reverence 
than  all  the  jewels  which  the  most  tawdry  Zemindar  wears; 
and  our  plain  language  carries  with  it  far  more  weight than  the 
florid  diction  of  the  most  ingenious  Persian  scribe} 

230.  The  Balanced  Sentence  is  commonly  defined 
as  a  compound  sentence  whose  clauses  are  similar.2 
But  the  balanced  parts  are  not  always  clauses,  nor 
need  the  sentence  be  compound  ;  as,  Emblems  of  vice 
are  objects  of  public  worship.  Acts  of  vice  are  acts  of 
public  worship.  Crimes  against  life,  crimes  against 
property,  are  not  only  perm  it  led  but  enjoined  by  this 
odious  theology.  Such  members  are  sometimes  said  to 
be  assimilated ;  but,  when  weighed  against  each  other  in 
this  way,  they  are  also  balanced.  So,  three  or  even 
more  parts  of  a  single  sentence  may  be  balanced,  or  the 
balance  may  be  between  whole  sentences,  with  or 
without  balance  between  their  different  members.  For 
example,  As  this  superstition  is  of  all  superstitions  the 
most  irrational,  and  of  all  superstitions  the  most  inelegant, 
so  is  it  of  all  superstitions  Ike  most  immoral. —  We  might 
have  acted  as  the  Spaniards  acted  in  the  New  World. 

We  might  have  attempted  to  introduce  our  own  religion 
by  force.  We  might  have  sent  missionaries  among  the 
natives  at  the  public  charge.     J I  e  might  have  held  out,  etc. 

231.  The  parts  of  a  balanced  sentence  are  different  in 
meaning,  alike  in  grammatical  structure,  in  sound,  or  in 
other  particulars.  The  effects  produced  are  enhanced 
by  the  peculiar  structure,  rather  than  caused  by  it ;  for 
mere  balance  is  nearly  always  weak,  while  strong  thought 
is  made  the  stronger  by  the  special  form.  Compare  the 
following  example  with  the  examples  in  §  229  ; — 

1Thc  last  sentence  is  really  doubly  balanced  ;  each  clause  within  itself,  and 
the  two  clauses  against  each  other. 

2  For  example,  Bain,  Part  I.,  §  137.  In  §?  141  ff,  however,  are  cited  as  balanced, 
— Words  are  the  counters  ol  wise  men.  and  the  money  of  fools;  High  life  below 
stairs;  As  if  a  number  of  7t/orldlings  made  a  world ;  etc. 


1 86  STYLE. 

"I  wrote  once  a  little  book  of  shooting:  King  Henry  gave  me 
a  living  for  it ;  when  he  lost  his  life,  I  lost  my  living ;  but  noble 
King  Edward  again  did  first  revive  it  by  his  goodness,  then  did 
increase  it  by  his  liberality ;  thirdly,  did  confirm  it  by  his 
authority  under  the  great  seal  of  England,"  etc. 

232.  The  advantages  of  this  structure  are  many,  but  it 
has  also  some  disadvantages.  On  the  one  hand,  it  aids 
the  memory,  it  causes  pleasure — especially,  if  a  difference 
of  meaning  can  be  reached  by  juggling  (as  it  were)  with 
the  same  words1 — and  it  leads  to  the  correct  placing  of 
emphatic  words.  On  the  other  hand,  the  weapon  is  a 
dangerous  one.  Let  a  writer's  ear  once  be  enchanted  by 
the  balanced  structure,  and  he  forgets  how  painful  are 
the  impressions  he  is  making  upon  his  reader.  Like 
verse-rhythm  in  prose,2  the  balanced  structure  cannot  be 
disguised :  to  disguise  it  is  to  destroy  it.  Periodic 
sentences  may  be  so  varied  as  to  leave  the  reader  una- 
ware from  whence  their  stimulating  effect  is  derived  ;  but 
series  of  balanced  sentences  are  necessarily  monotonous.3 
Pleasing  at  first,  their  sweetness  at  length  cloys  the  taste. 
Besides,  excess  of  balance  leads  to  tautology,  (for  the 
sentence  must  be  filled  out,  and  with  a  repetition,  if  with 
nothing  else,)  to  the  insertion  of  unnecessary  allusions 
and  other  details,  (by  way  of  securing  the  "  see-saw,") 
and  to  similar  vices  brought  on  by  "the  irresistible 
craving  for  the  familiar  measure."  Like  drunkenness, 
this  craving  becomes  a  disease.  Macaulay  is  one  of  its 
notorious  victims  ;  while  of  a  certain  American  writer, 
still  living,  it  has  been  wittily  said,  ' '  His  pages  make  one 
sea-sick."  The  following  instances  of  repetition  and 
unnecessary  additions  should  be  especially  noted  ; — 

1  For  example,  What  is  Hecuba  to  him,  or  he  to  Hecuba  ? — A  juggler  is  a  wit 
in  things,  and  a  wit  is  a  juggler  in  words.  The  examples  already  given  suffi- 
ciently illustrate  the  other  points. 

2  158  (2),  above. — Minto  notes  that  "  in  impassioned  prose,  balance  has  some- 
thing of  the  effect  of  metre." 

■"■  Minto,  pp.  9-10. 


THE  BALANCED  SENTENCE.  187 

"  He  has  opposed  many  bills  introduced  by  the  present  Gov- 
ernment ;  but  he  lias  opposed  them  on  such  grounds,"  etc.  [Strike 
out  the  words  in  italics,  and  change  the  semicolon  to  a  comma.] 

"What  I  do  anticipate  is  this,  that  he  will  attempt  to  keep  his 
party  together  by  means  which  will  excite  grave  discontents, 
and  yet  that  he  will  not  succeed  in  keeping  his  party  together ; 
that  he  will  lose  the  support  of  the  Tories  without  obtaining  the 
support  of  the  nation;  and  that  his  government  will  fall  from 
causes  purely  internal."  [The  words  in  italics  are  pleonastic, 
and  each  of  the  last  two  clauses  repeats  what  the  first  had 
already  said.     "  He  "  was  a  Tory.] 

233.  A  not  unusual,  but  most  objectionable  form  of 
Balanced  Sentence  is  that  produced  by  the  so-called 
"splitting"  of  two  allied  constructions;  for  example, 
As  bad  as,  or  worse  than,  his  predecessor ;  interest  in, 
and  responsibility  for,  the  world's  condition  ;  I  never  have 
allowed,  and  never  zvill  allozv,  literary  labor  to  infringe  on 
pastoral. — Whatever  may  sometimes  be  gained  in  brevity 
by  this  arrangement,  much  more  is  lost  in  elegance  ;  so 
that  the  construction  should  commonly  be  avoided.  In- 
deed, sometimes  even  brevity  is  sacrificed.  The  first  sen- 
tence cited  above  is  shorter  when  properly  arranged, — As 
bad  as  his  predecessor  or  worse.  So,  I  never  have  allowed 
literary  labor  to  infringe  on  pastoral,  and  never  will. 

234.  The  Balanced  Structure  is  often  joined  with  anti- 
thesis, epigram, x  or  climax.'1  The  Proverbs  of  Solomon 
and  many  other  familiar  sayings — such  as,  Waste  not, 
want  not — To  hesitate  is  to  be  lost — Not  that  I  loved 
Caesar  less,  but  that  I  loved  Rome  more — are  examples  of 
balance  combined  with  antithesis  and  epigram  ;  Tenny- 
son's "dowered  with  the  hate  of  hate,  the  scorn  of  scorn, 
the  love  of  love,"  of  balance  and  climax.  In  the  follow- 
ing sentence,  antithesis  is  neglected,  and  balance  suffers 
accordingly  ; — Take  the  human  being  at  the  right  period 
of  life,  and  prevention  is  as  easy  as  [at  a  later  period] 
cure  is  difficult. 

1?.  30Ii  below.  2  j  278,  below. 


1 88  STYLE. 

A  style  in  which  balance  predominates,   especially  if 
antithesis,  etc.,  are  joined  with  it,  is  called  Pointed. 

6.  The  Condensed  Sentence. 

235.  In  imitation  of  the  classical  construction  called 
zeugma,  a  few  English  writers  occasionally  join  under 
one  government  or  agreement  two  or  more  terms  that 
do  not  strictly  admit  of  being  so  construed  ;  as,  Of  nine- 
teen tyrants,  not  one  enjoyed  a  life  of  peace  or  a  natural 
death. — The  Russian  grandees  came  to  court  dropping 
pearls  and  vermin.  "  In  the  present  day,"  says  Minto,1 
"when  used  at  all,"  the  condensed  sentence  chiefly 
serves  ' '  comic  purposes.  Readers  of  Dickens  and  his 
imitators  are  familiar  with  such"  expressions  "  as  '  drew 
tears  from  his  eyes  and  a  handkerchief  from  his  pocket. '  ' ' 
But  Tennyson 2  has  shown  that  the  construction  is  still 
powerful  for  higher  uses  ; — 

'  The  circuits  of  thine  orbit  round 
A  higher  height,3  a  deeper  deep." 

7.   Unity. 

236.  Unity  requires  that  "every  part  of  the  sentence 
shall  be  subservient  to  one  principal  affirmation." 
Thus  ; — 

This  is  indeed  worth  your  attention.— Of  course  all  mankind 
are,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  says,  of  our  own  flesh  and  blood.— But 
you  know  how  often  it  happens  in  England  that  a  cultivated 
person,  a  person  of  the  sort  that  Mr.  Charles  Sumner  describes, 
talking  to  one  of  the  lower  class,  or  even  of  the  middle  class, 
feels,  and  cannot  but  feel,  that  there  is  somehow  a  wall  of  par- 
tition between  himself  and  the  other,  that  they  seem  to  belong 
to  two  different  worlds.— Thoughts,  feelings,  perceptions,  sus- 
ceptibilities, language,  manners,— everything  is  different- 
France  brings  the  Alsatians  into  a  social  system  so  full  of  the 
goodness  and  agreeableness  of  life  ;  we  offer  to  the  Irish  no 
such  attraction. — A  nation  pursues  social  equality,  supposed  to 

1  Manuql,  p.  10.  2  /«  Memoriam,  lxiii.  3.  *%c.  fathom. 


THE    SENTENCE — UNITY.  189 

be  an  utterly  false  and  baneful  idea ;  it  arrives,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  at  fearful  misery  and  deterioration  by  doing  so; 
and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  high,  if  not  the  first,  in  the  scale 
of  civilized  nations. 

Each  of  these  sentences  sets  forth  only  one  principal 
idea.  This  idea  may  be  unmodified,  as  in  the  first  sen- 
tence ;  slightly  modified,  as  in  the  second  ;  involved  in 
a  net-work  of  modifiers,  as  in  the  third  ;  or  even  consist 
of  a  longer  or  shorter  series  of  specific  statements  that 
together  make  up  the  one,  generic  idea  intended,  as  in 
the  last  three  sentences.  In  each  case  the  thought  con- 
veyed is  single,  the  impression  received  by  the  mind 
also  single.1 

237.  For  precisely  the  opposite  reason,  viz.,  that  they 
set  forth  more  than  one  principal  idea  each,  the  following 
sentences  violate  Unity  ; — 

In  this  uneasy  state,  Cicero  was  oppressed  by  a  new  and  cruel 
affliction,  the  death  of  his  daughter  Tullia ;  which  happened 
soon  after  her  divorce  from  Dolabella  ;  whose  manners  and 
humours  were  entirely  disagreeable  to  her.- — My  dear  friend, 
if  you  look  at  the  last  essaykin  (though  you  may  leave  it  alone, 
and  I  shall  not  be  in  the  least  surprised  or  offended),  if  you 
look  at  the  last  paper,  where  the  writer  imagines  Athos  and 
Porthos,  Dalgetty  and  Ivanhoe,  Amelia  and  Sir  Charles  Grand- 
ison,  Don  Quixote  and  Sir  Roger,  walking  in  at  the  garden- 
window,  you  will  at  once  perceive  that  Novels  and  their 
heroes  and  heroines  are  our  present  subject  of  discourse,  into 
which  we  will  presently  plunge.3 — It  seemed  to  me  that  from 
his  long  fingers  two  quivering  flames  issued,  sputtering,  as  it 
were,  which  penetrated  me,  and  forced  me  back  into  one  of  the 
chairs — the  broken  one — out  of  which  I  had  much  difficulty  in 
scrambling,  when  the  strange  glamour  was  ended.3 

How  completely  these  sentences  violate  the  rule ;  can  be 

seen  by  writing  them  correctly  ;— 

In  this  uneasy  state,  a  new  and  cruel  affliction  befell  Cicero. 
His  daughter  Tullia,  had  been  married  to  Dolabella,  but  had 

'The  first   four  sentences  stand    consecutively   in   a  single   paragraph  in 
Matthew  Arnold's  Mixed  Essays,  Equality. 
•  Quoted  by  Blair.  3Thaekeray,  Roundabout  Papers. 


igo  STYLE. 

been  divorced  because  her  husband's  manners  and  humours 
were  entirely  disagreeable  to  her.  Shortly  after  the  divorce,  she 
died. — My  dear  friend,  .  .  .  essaykin,  where  the  writer  .  .  . 
subject  of  discourse.  Into  this  .  .  .  plunge. — It  seemed  to  me 
...  as  it  were,  penetrating  me,  and  forcing  me  back  .  .  . 
broken  one.  Out  of  this,  when  .  .  .  ended,  I  had  .  .  . 
scrambling.1 

238.  As  commonly  stated,  however,  the  rule  becomes 
' '  dogmatic  and  cramping. ' '  No  sentence,  it  is  said, 
should  contain  more  than  "  one  entire  thought  or  mental 
proposition  ;"  "  things  which  are  separated  in  reality  ' ' 
should  not  be  "connected  in  language;"  "in  every 
sentence  there  ought  to  be  one  main  assertion."  But 
every  page  of  every  good  English  writer,  as  well  as  the 
philosophy  of  the  sentence,  contradicts  these  statements, 
and  confirms  the  more  moderate  rule  laid  down  above. 
It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  "  a  statement  merely 
explanatory  or  qualifying,  put  into  a  sentence  apart, 
acquires  a  dangerous  ( !)  prominence. "  In  a  word,  ' '  the 
only  universal  caution  that  can  be  given,  is  to  beware  of 
distracting  from  the  effect  of  the  main  statement  by- 
particulars  not  immediately  relevant,"  to  "leave  some- 
thing for  the  next  sentence,"  to  "distinguish  between 
the  Unity  of  a  Sentence  .  .  .  and  the  Unity  of  a  Para- 
graph." Even  Blair's  rules  command  too  much.  As 
condensed  by  Bain,  they  are, — 

(1)  In  the  course  of  the  same  sentence  not  to  shift  the  scene  ; 

(2)  To  avoid  crowding  into  one  sentence  heterogeneous  ideas  ; 

(3)  To  avoid  excess  of  parenthetical  clauses  ;  (4)  Not  to  add 
members  after  a  full  and  perfect  close. 

A  careful  examination  of  them  will  show  how  far  they 
exceed  the  valid  rule. 

239.  (1)  What   Blair  intended  by  shifting  the  scene 
appears  from  his  own  explanation. 

1Or,  perhaps,  It  seemed  to  me  .  .  .were.  These  penetrated  .  .  .chairs — the 
hroken  one:  and  I  had  much  difficulty,  when  .  .  .  ended,  in  scrambling  out 
of  it. 


THE   SENTENCE — UNITY.  igi 

' '  We  should  not  be  hurried, ' '  he  says,  ' '  by  sudden  transitions 
from  person  to  person,  nor  [sic']  from  subject  to  subject.  There 
is  commonly,  in  every  sentence,  some  person  or  thing,  which 
is  the  governing  word.  This  should  be  continued  so,  if  possible, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end."  For  example,  "  'After  we  came 
to  anchor,  they  put  me  on  shore,  where  I  was  welcomed  by  all 
my  friends,  who  received  me  with  the  greatest  kindness.'  In 
this  sentence,  though  the  objects  contained  in  it  have  a  sufficient 
connexion  with  each  other,  yet,  by  this  manner  of  representing 
them,  by  shij  Yin  if  so  often  both  Yhe  place  and  the  person,  we  and 
they,  and  /,  and  who,  they  appear  in  such  a  disunited  view, 
that  the  sense  of  connexion  is  almost  lost." 

Plainly,  Blair's  idea  of  shifting  the  scene  is  changing 
the  subject  or  the  construction  of  the  sentence  j1  and  so 
he  has  commonly  been  quoted  as  teaching.  But,  surely, 
if  the  objects  contained  in  a  sentence  have  "a  sufficient 
connexion"  with  each  other,  there  is  no  want  of  unity. 
The  sentence  may  lack  force  and  clearness,  as  Blair's 
example  does  ;  it  may  be  loose,  as  Blair's  example  is  ;  it 
may  have  other  faults,  perhaps  ;  but  unity  is  left,  though 
obscured.  Shifting  the  scene  (in  Blair's  sense)  may  lead 
a  writer  into  confusing  in  one  sentence  two  ideas  that 
ought  each  to  have  a  sentence  of  its  own  ;2  but  it  is  not 
the  change  of  subject  or  construction  that  destroys  unity  : 
it  is  the  herding  together  of  disparate  thoughts.  The 
form  of  the  sentence  is  certainly  objectionable  ;  but,  if 
this  form  necessarily  destroys  unity,  the  only  legitimate 
form  of  sentence  is  that  of  Example  ist,  §  235,  and  every 
other  sentence  quoted  in  that  paragraph  as  obeying  the 
rule  really  breaks  it.  But  no  one,  perhaps,  will  say  this  ; 
certainly,  no  one  familiar  with  the  English  tongue  and 
its  sentence-forms  and  constructions. 

240.  (2)  Blair's  second  rule  is  undoubtedly  a  rule  of 
Unity,  and  is  exemplified  by  all  the  examples  quoted  or  to 

1  Blair's  correction  proves  this: — "Having  come  to  anchor,  I  was  put  on 
shore,  where  I  was  welcomed  by  all  my  friends,  and  received  with  the  greatest 
kindness." 

'  See  Ex.  ist,  I  j  '  - 


192  STYLE. 

be  quoted  under  this  head.     The  student  must  remember, 
however,  to  define  "heterogeneous"  with  distinguished 
liberality.     All  over-statements  of  the  true  principle  of 
Unity  have  been  due  to  narrowing  the  meaning  of  this 
word. 

241.  (3)  Parentheses,  like  a  change  of  subject  or  con- 
struction, may  destroy  unity,  but  only  when  they  intro- 
duce foreign  thought.  The  parenthesis — even  an  excess 
of  parentheses — is  not  objectionable  in  itself*  but  only 
because  of  its  effects.  These  effects  are  vicious  loose- 
ness of  structure,  monotony,  mannerism,  confusion  as 
opposed  to  clearness  ;  but  neither  they  nor  any  other  evil 
results  of  the  parenthesis  are  results  of  the  form  only  ; 
the  evils  complained  of  are  in  the  thought.  On  the 
contrary,  parentheses  are  sometimes  actually  advan- 
tageous.1 The  following  examples,  if  studied  carefully, 
will  illustrate  these  remarks  ; — 

Every  man  who  has  been  coached  through  the  famous 
"Faust"  of  Goethe  (thou  wert  my  instructor,  good  old  Weis- 
senborn,  and  these  eyes  beheld  the  great  master  himself  in 
dear  little  Weimar  town  !)  has  read  those  charming  verses 
which  are  prefixed  to  the  drama. — Years  ago  I  had  a  quarrel 
with  a  certain  well-known  person  (I  believed  a  statement  re- 
garding him  which  his  friends  imparted  to  me,  and  which 
turned  out  to  be  quite  incorrect). — I  wonder  if  the  rascal  is 
alive — an  elderly  scoundrel  he  must  be  by  this  time  ;  and  a 
hoary  old  hypocrite,  to  whom  an  old  schoolfellow  presents  his 
kindest  regards — parenthetically  remarking  what  a  dreadful 
place  that  private  school  was;  cold,  chilblains,  bad  dinners, 
not  enough  victuals,  and  caning  awful  !■ — Are  you  alive  still, 
I  say,  you  nameless  villain,  who  escaped  discovery  on  that  day 
of  crime? — And  if  I  remember  right  (protesting  I  have  not  read 
the  book  for  forty-two  or  three  years),  Robert  Bruce  made  a 
speech  to  his  soldiers. — If  I  were  a  mother  (which  is  absurd),  I 

1  The  attempt  to  get  rid  of  the  vicious  results  of  the  parenthesis  by  substi- 
tuting commas  or  dashes  for  the  parenthesis-marks  shows  this.  The  conse- 
quences are  not  unlike  those  of  the  ostrich's  hiding  its  head  in  the  sand,  in 
order  to  escape  pursuit,  or  the  child's  closing  his  own  eyes,  that  nobody  may 
see  him. 


THE   SENTENCE — UNITY.  193 

should  like  to  be,  etc. — For  myself,  being  also  du  metier,  I 
confess,  etc. — He  ranks  with  your  Uncle  Toby,  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley,  Falstaff— heroic  figures,  all — American  or  British. 

242.  So,  too,  (4)  the  adding  of  members  after  a  full 
and  perfect  close  may  result  in  only  loosening  the  sen- 
tence, not  in  destroying  its  unity.  For  example,  His 
legatee  inherits  these  modest  possessions  by  virtue  of  a 
codicil  to  his  lordship's  will,  written,  "strange  to  say 
upon  a  sheet  of  paper  bearing  the  'Athenaeum  Club' 
mark,"  is  a  loose  sentence,  but  not  out  of  unity.1  On 
the  other  hand,  the  final  clause  of  the  second  example  in 
§  237,  states  a  fact  not  subservient  to  the  main  statement, 
and,  hence,  is  in  violation  of  unity.  So,  also,  are  the 
final  clauses  of  the  two  following  sentences  ; — 

The  gentleman  who  received  it,  having  looked  at  the  draft 
with  terror  in  his  countenance,  then  looked  at  me,  then  called 
to  himself  two  of  his  fellow  clerks,  and  queer  it  was  to  see  all 
their  aquiline  beaks  over  the  paper. — The  invention  created 
some  little  conversation  amongst  scientific  men  at  the  time, 
though  I  remember  a  machine  in  Edinburgh  of  a  very  similar 
construction,  two  hundred — well,  many,  many  years  ago — and 
at  a  breakfast  which  Guillotin  gave  he  showed  us  the  instru- 
ment, and  much  talk  arose  amongst  us  as  to  whether  people 
suffered  under  it. 

243.  The  relative  clause  is  especially  apt  to  be  thus 
'tagged"   to  a  completed  sentence;  and  unity  suffers 

accordingly.     Thus ; — 

We  passed  from  Shepherd's  Inn  into  Holborn,  and  looked 
for  a  while  at  Woodgate's  bric-a-brac  shop,  which  I  can  never 
pass  without  etc. — I  saw  a  headless  man  seated,  with  his  head 
in  his  lap,  which  wore  an  expression  of  piteous  surprise. — A 
postboy  was  shot  by  an  Irish  gentleman  on  the  road  near  Stone, 
in  Staffordshire,  who  died  in  two  days,  for  which  the  gentleman 
was  imprisoned. — The  eighteenth  century  had  now  become 
rich    in    the    names  of  great   Americans,   one   of   the    most 

1  Re-arranged— By  virtue  of  .  .  .  will  (written,  .  .  .  mark)  his  legatee  inherits 
these  modest  possessions — the  sentence  is  certainly  not  out  of  unity  :  why  is 
Thackeray's  form,  which  throws  the  emphatic  clause  to  the  last,  any  worse? 

13 


194  STYLE. 

remarkable  of  whom  was  Benjamin  Franklin,  who  had  all  the 
versatility  of  Roger  Williams  and  Increase  Mather,  and  was  a 
master  in  whatever  branch  of  learning  he  touched.1 

244.  Added  clauses  and  other  violations  of  unity  are 
sometimes  used  purposely,  for  humor's  sake  or  for  some 
other- sufficient  reason  ;  but  the  construction  must  be  con- 
sidered a  license,  and  be  used  sparingly.     For  example; — 

Can  you  be  fond  of  these  ?  Of  Pope  I  might :  at  least  I 
might  love  his  genius,  his  wit,  his  greatness,  his  sensibility — 
with  a  certain  conviction  that  at  some  fancied  slight,  some 
sneer  which  he  imagined,  he  would  turn  upon  me  and  stab  me. 
— Yes,  Eve  never  took  the  apple — it  was  a  cowardly  fabrication 
of  the  serpent's. — There  is  poor  Sophia  Dorothea,  with  her 
furious  jealousy  regarding  her  husband  (though  she  loathed 
and  cheated  him). — Really,  if  their  complexions  were  a  little 
better,  don't  you  think  they  would  be  nice-looking  girls — by 
candle-light? — "  Ha  !  ha  !  "  replied  Jingle  ;  "  I  say — she's  very 
well — desires  her  compliments — begs  you  won't  trouble  your- 
self— love  to  Tuppy — won't  you  get  up  behind? — drive  on, 
boys." — I  kept  my  eyes  carefully  from  him  at  first,  for  I  knew 
what  he  little  thought — and  I  gloried  in  the  knowledge — that 
the  light  of  madness  gleamed  from  them  like  fire. 

8.  Due  Proportion. 

245.  The  several  parts  of  a  sentence  "should  have 
bulk  and  prominence  according  to  their  importance." 
Modifiers,  whether  words,  phrases,  or  clauses,  should 
not  outweigh  the  principal  statement,  lest  what  is  subor- 
dinate should  appear  to  be  of  chief  importance,  and  what 
is  really  important  be  lost  sight  of.     Thus  ; — 

It  is  extraordinary  how  cool  any  party  but  the  principal  can 
be  in  such  cases.2 — "Snodgrass,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous 
with  emotion,  "  if  I  fall,  you  will  find  in  a  packet  which  I  shall 
place  in  your  hands  a  note  for  my  — for  my  father. ' ' 2 — The  officer 

'Sentences  like  the  two  last,  which  "tag"  not  one  but  several  relative 
clauses  to  a  complete  construction  or  to  each  other,  have  been  aptly  said  to  be 
in  "the  House  that  Jack  built"  style.     (See,  also,  \  221,  above.) 

8 In  due  proportion. 


THE   SENTENCE — DUE    PROPORTION.  195 

evinced  his  consciousness  of  their  presence  by  slightly  beckon- 
ing with  his  hand  ;  and  the  two  friends  followed  him,  at  a  little 
distance,  as  he  walked  away.1 — The  doctor  took  snuff  with 
everybody,  chatted  with  everybody,  laughed,  danced,  made 
jokes,  played  whist,  did  everything,  and  was  everywhere.1 — 
Mr.  Snodgrass  dropped  the  hand  which  he  had,  in  the  spirit  of 
poesy,  raised  towards  the  clouds,  as  he  made  the  above  appeal, 
and  assumed  an  attitude  of  attention.2 — Three  or  four  buxom 
girls  speedily  dispersed  in  search  of  the  different  articles  in 
requisition,  while  a  couple  of  large-headed,  circular-visaged 
males  rose  from  their  seats  in  the  chimney-corner,  (for  although 
it  was  a  May  evening,  their  attachment  to  the  wood  fire  appeared 
as  cordial  as  if  it  were  Christmas,)  and  dived  into  some  obscure 
recesses,  from  which  they  speedily  produced  a  bottle  of  black- 
ing and  some  half-dozen  brushes.3 — At  one  end  of  that  old, 
cold,  glassy,  glittering,  ghostly,  marble  hall  there  stands  a 
throne,  on  which  a  white  marble  king  ought  to  sit  with  his 
white  legs  gleaming  down  into  the  white  marble  below,  and  his 
white  eyes  looking  at  a  great  white  marble  Atlas,  who  bears  on 
his  icy  shoulders  a  blue  globe  as  big  as  the  full  moon.2 

1  In  due  proportion.  s  Out  of  proportion. 

3 Full  of  defects:  the  sentence  needs  "  heroic  "  surgery. 


196  STYLE. 


III. 
THE  PARAGRAPH.1 

246.  A  Paragraph  is  in  fact  a  whole  composition  in 
miniature,  and  sometimes  constitutes  a  whole  com- 
position.2 The  laws  that  it  obeys  are  of  the  highest 
importance;  Prof.  Bain's  injunction  in  regard  to  it  being 
more  nearly  true  than  the  similar  rule  for  the  sentence 
(not  Prof.  Bain's)  criticized  above.3  "  Look  to  the  Para- 
graphs," he  says,4  "  and  the  Discourse  will  look  to  itself; 
for,  although  a  discourse  as  a  whole  has  a  method  or 
plan  suited  to  its  nature,  yet  he  that  fully  comprehends 
the  method  of  a  paragraph,  will  also  comprehend  the 
method  of  an  entire  work."5  The  several  sentences  of  a 
paragraph  bear  to  each  other  precisely  the  same  relations 
that  the  several  paragraphs  or  other  larger  divisions  of  a 
composition  bear  to  themselves  ;  and,  hence,  no  one  who 
can  construct  a  satisfactory  paragraph,  can  readily  fail  in 
constructing  a  whole  work. 

247.  And  yet,  strange  as  it  may  sound,  paragraph- 
arrangement  has  been  much  neglected  by  even  the  best 
English  writers.  Mr.  Minto,  after  examining  "  at  consid- 
erable length  the  paragraph  arrangements  of"  a  number 
of  different  authors,  concludes  that  ' '  very  few  writers  in 
our  language  seem  to  have  paid  much  attention  to  the 
subject,  and  that  "  none  of  them  can  be  recommended 
as  a  model."  Prof.  Bain  seems  to  have  been  the  first 
to  state  formally  any  rules  for  the  paragraph  ;  Campbell, 
Blair,  and   even   Whately  stopped  with    the   sentence ; 

ij!  170.  2  As  in  the  newspaper  or  other  periodical. 

8^199.  •'Part  I.,?  178. 

6  Thus  guarded,  the  injunction  corresponds  exactly  with  what  was  said  about 
the  whole  composition  and  its  divisions  in  \  170,  above. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — TOPIC    SENTENCES.  1 97 

and  one  may  still  hear  the  doctrine  laid  down,  as  if  not 
contradictable,  that  the  whole  of  Style  lies  in  the  sentence- 
building. 

248.  The  principal  rules  for  the  paragraph1  are  as 
follows. 

1.  Initial  Theme,  or  Topic,  Sentences. 

249.  Unless  obviously  preparatory,  the  opening  sen- 
tence is  expected  to  indicate  the  subject  of  the  paragraph. 
An  initial  sentence  is,  of  course,  unusually  prominent, 
and,  hence,  is  ill  fitted  to  set  out  merely  introductory 
matter.  When  it  must  do  this,  its  character  should  be 
distinctly  marked.     Thus  ; — 

"Peace  was  made;  but  would  peace  endure?  [Topic-sen- 
tence.] There  was  little  chance  of  it,  and  this  for  several 
reasons.  First,  the  native  fickleness  of  the  Iroquois,  who, 
astute  and  politic  to  a  surprising  degree,  were  in  certain 
respects,  like  all  savages,  mere  grown-up  children.  Next,  their 
total  want  of  control  over  their  fierce  and  capricious  young 
warriors,  any  one  of  whom  could  break  the  peace  with  impunity 
whenever  he  saw  fit ;  and,  above  all,  the  strong  probability  that 
the  Iroquois  had  made  peace  in  order,  under  cover  of  it,  to 
butcher  or  kidnap  the  unhappy  remnant  of  the  Hurons  who 
were  living,  under  French  protection,  on  the  island  of  Orleans, 
immediately  below  Quebec."2  [The  paragraph  continues 
amplifying  this  last  statement.] 

' '  In  the  summer  of  /6jj,  all  Canada  turned  to  fasting-  and 
penance,  processions,  vows,  and  supplications.  The  saints  and 
the  Virgin  were  beset  with  unceasing  prayer.  [Manifestly 
introductory.]  The  wretched  little  colony  was  like  some  puny 
garrison,  starving  and  sick,  compassed  with  inveterate  foes, 
supplies  cut  off,  and  succor  helpless."3  [Subject  of  several 
following  paragraphs.] 

"I  went  away  sick  at  heart,  despite  that  victory  [as  an  actor 
in  a  French  provincial  theatre]  on  which  my  old  companions  so 
generously  felicitated  me.  A  victory  over  these  poor  boors 
who  knew  not  one  letter  from  another  !     What  was  it  worth  ? 

aBain,  Part  I.  §?  158  ff,  (re-arranged  and  often  altered.) 

2Parkman,  The  Old  Regime  in  Canada,  ch.  1.  8Id.  ib. 


198  STYLE. 

"In  the  great  cities,  no  doubt,  they  would  have  hissed  down 
my  acting.  For  the  first  time,  my  career  seemed  miserable,  and 
any  successes  in  it  seemed  ridiculous  either  to  seek  or  to  prize. 
[No  hint  of  what  is  to  follow,  and  the  first  sentence  misleading 
as  to  the  purpose  of  the  second.]  For,  in  imagination,  I  fol- 
lowed the  bright  creature  [a  young  girl  who  had  laughed  at 
him  as  ugly  and  stupid]  to  her  home,  and  heard  her  laugh  in 
her  solitude  as  she  thought  of  me,  an  ugly  wretch  who  fancied 
if  ploughmen  laughed  at  him,  or  kitchen  wenches  wept,  that 
he  had  fame  !  "  [The  error  is  due  to  the  presence  of  the  first 
sentence  in  this  paragraph  :  it  belongs  to  the  preceding  para- 
graph.] 

2.  Explicit  Reference. 

250.  "The  bearing  of  each  sentence  upon  what  pre- 
cedes must  be  explicit  and  unmistakable."  Otherwise, 
the  sense  grows  doubtful  or  obscure,  and  the  reader  is 
left  to  guess  at  the  writer's  meaning  or  to  despair  of 
divining  it.  A  break  in  the  connection  between  sen- 
tences is  far  more  damaging  than  a  disjointing  of  the 
thought  within  the  sentence  ;  and  it  is  far  more  likely  to 
occur.  For,  although  a  paragraph  deals  with  a  distinct 
topic,  there  is,  of  course,  a  greater  break  between  inde- 
pendent sentences  than  between  the  parts  of  a  single 
sentence,  and  the  writer  is,  therefore,  the  more  easily 
thrown  off  his  track.  Thus,  were  all  the  means  neglected 
that  are  taken  to  preserve  the  connection  of  thought  in 
the  following  paragraph,  the  labor  of  the  reader  would 
be  much  increased  ; — 

"The  adventurous  spirits  of  the  cavaliers  were  inflamed  by 
this  suggestion ;x  in  their  sanguine  confidence*  they  already 
beheld  Malaga  in  their  power,  and  they  were  eager  for  the 
enterprise.  The  marques  of  Cadiz,  [however?]  endeavored  to 
interpose  a  little  cool  caution.2  He  likeivise  had  apostate 
adalides,  the  most  intelligent  and  experienced  on  the  borders; 
among  these,  he  placed  especial  reliance  on  one  named  Louis 
Amar,  who  knew  all  the  mountains  and  valleys  of  the  country. 
He  had  received  from  him  a  particular  account  of  these  moun- 

1  Refers  to  a  preceding  paragraph.  2  Is  this  phrase  tautological? 


THE    PARAGRAPH — EXPLICIT    REFERENCE.  I99 

tains  of  the  Axarquia.  Their  savage  and  broken  nature  was  a 
sufficient  defence  for  the  fierce  people  who  inhabited  them, 
who,1  manning  their  rocks  and  their  tremendous  passes,  which 
were  often  nothing  more  than  the  deep  dry  beds  of  torrents, 
might  set  whole  armies  at  defiance.  Even  if  vanquished,  they1 
afforded  no  spoil  to  the  victor.  Their  houses  were  little  better 
than  bare  walls,  and  they  would  drive  off  their  scanty  flocks  and 
herds  to  the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains."3 

251.  When  the  sentences  are  short,  and  the  thought 
at  best  somewhat  broken,  the  effect  is  far  worse.  Thus, 
should  the  words  italicised  in  the  following  extract  be 
omitted,  the  thought  would  be  much  more  difficult  to 
follow  ; — 

"It  is  a  miserable  State  of  Minde  to  have  few  Things  to 
desire  and  many  Things  to  feare.  A?td  yet  that  commonly  is 
the  Case  of  Kings ;  Who  being  at  the  highest,  want  Matter  of 
desire,  which  makes  their  Mindes  more  Languishing  ;  And 
have  many  Representations  of  Perills  and  Shadowes,  which 
makes  their  Mindes  the  lesse  clear.  And  this  is  one  Reason 
also  of  that  Effect  which  the  Scripture  speaketh  of;  That  the 
King's  Heart  is  inscrutable.  For  Multitude  of  Jealousies  and 
Lack  of  some  predominant  desire,  that  should  marshall  and 
put  in  order  all  the  rest,  maketh  any  Man's  Heart  hard  to 
finde  or  sound.     Hence  it  comes  like-wise  that  Princes,"  etc.* 

252.  Explicit  Reference  in  the  paragraph,  like  that 
within  the  sentence,5  is  often  secured  by  special  devices; 
but  a  close  relation  of  thought  or  a  close  syntactical  rela- 
tion may  alone  be  sufficient  to  bind  sentences  together, 
and  many  sentences  are  so  remotely  connected  as  to 
defy  linking  by  any  formal  tie.  In  all  these  cases,  the 
sentences  simply  follow  each  other;6  but  care  must 
always  be  taken  that  the  sequence  of  thought  is  clear. 
If,  in  any  case,  this  is  not  so,  the  presumption  is  either 

1  And  who  ?  2  These  mountaineers  f 

3  Irving,  The  Conquest  of  Granada,  i.  ch.  xii. 

^Bacon's  Essays,  Ed.  W.  Aldis  Wright,  p.  75. — The  old   punctuation  only 
obscures  the  sense,  and  is  therefore  changed. 
6 1  218,  above.  c  For  examples,  see  §  254,  below. 


200  STYLE. 

that  a  connecting'  device  of  some  kind  is  needed,  or  that 
there  is  a  gap  in  the  thought  which  requires  bridging  by- 
one  or  more  intermediate  sentences. 

253.  The  special  devices  for  explicit  Reference  are  (1) 
Connective  particles,  "the  joints  or  hinges  on  which 
sentences  turn," — (a)  conjunctions,  (6)  adverbs  or  ad- 
verbial phrases  used  conjunctively,  (c)  pronouns,  including 
demonstrative  clauses,  similarly  used;  (2)  Repetitions, 
(a)  literal,  (b)  in  substance ;  (3)  Inversions  and  other 
unusual  arrangements  of  the  sentence.  The  following 
extracts  exemplify  all  these  devices  ; — 

(1)  "There  would  really  seem  an  almost  Arcadian  simplicity 
in  such  demands,  coming  from  so  practised  a  statesman  as  the 
Lord  Treasurer,  and  from  a  woman  of  such  brilliant  intellect 
as  Elizabeth  unquestionably  possessed.  But  we  read  the  his- 
tory of  1587,  not  only  by  the  light  of  subsequent  events,  but  by 
the  almost  microscopic  revelations  of  sentiments  and  motives, 
which  a  full  perusal  of  the  secret  documents  in  those  ancient 
cabinets  afford.1  At  that  moment  it  was  not  ignorance  nor  [sic] 
dulness  which  was  leading  England  towards  the  pitfall  so  art- 
fully dug  by  Spain.  There  was  trust  in  the  plighted  word  of  a 
chivalrous  soldier  like  Alexander  Farnese,  of  a  most  religious 
and  anointed  monarch  like  Philip  II.  English  frankness,  play- 
ing cards  upon  the  table,  was  no  match  for  Italian  and  Spanish 
legerdemain, — a  system  according  to  which,  to  defraud  the 
antagonist  by  every  kind  of  falsehood  and  trickery  was  the 
legitimate  end  of  diplomacy  and  statesmanship."'' 

"When  Burghley  read  these  fine  phrases,  he  was  much  im- 
pressed ;  and  they  were  pronounced  at  the  English  court  to  be 
'very  princely  and  Christianly.'  An  elaborate  comment,  to, 
was  drawn  up  by  the  comptroller  on  every  line  of  the  letter. 
'These  be  very  good  words,'  said  the  comptroller."  2 

(2)  "It  was  pleasant,  no  doubt,  to  be  applauded  by  high 
churchmen  and  low  churchmen,  by  the  Sheldonian  Theatre  and 
by  Exeter  Hall.  //  zuas  pleasant  to  be  described  as  the  cham- 
pions of  the  Protestant  faith.  It  zuas  pleasant  to  hear  your 
opponents  called  by  every  nickname  that  is  to  be  found  in  the 
foul  vocabulary.  .  .  .  It  zuas  pleasant  to  hear  that  they  were 

1  Affords?  u  Motley,  United  Netherlands,  ch.  xvii. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — EXPLICIT    REFERENCE.  201 

the  allies  of  Antichrist.  .  .  .  But  when  all  this  slander  and 
scurrility  had  raised  you  to  power,  etc"  l 

"At  the  very  beginning  of  the  year  the  King  of  Denmark 
had  made  an  offer  to  Philip  of  mediation.  The  letter,"1  en- 
trusted to  a  young  Count  de  Rantzan,  had  been  intercepted. 

(3)  He  never  scrupled,  on  repeated  occasions,  to  insinuate 
that  Barneveld  [and  others] 3  had  organized  a  plot  to  sell  their 
country  to  Spain.  Of  this 4  there  was  not  the  faintest  evidence; 
but  it  was,  etc. — As  for  powers,  say  that  you,  as  my  governor- 
general,  will  entrust  them  to  your  deputies,  in  regard  to  the 
Netherlands.  For  all  other  matters,  say  that  you  have  had  full 
powers  for  many  months,  but  that  you  cannot  exhibit  them  till 
conditions  worthy  of  my  acceptance  have  been  offered."  5 

254.  Three  classes  of  sentences  are  so  closely  related 
in  thought  as  not  commonly  to  need  formal  binding 
together  : — (1)  Iterative  and  explanatory  sentences  ;  (2) 
Cumulative  statements  ;  (3)  Sentences  added  by  way  of 
consequence.  Examples  of  each  class  will  be  found  in 
the  following  paragraphs.  Sentences  closely  related  by 
syntax  do  not  need  classification  ;  and  those  whose  con- 
nection is  remote  do  not  admit  of  it.     Thus  ; — 

And  there  sat  the  patient  letter-writer  in  his  cabinet,  busy 
with  his  schemes.  His  grey  head  was  whitening  fast.  He  was 
sixty  years  of  age.  His  frame  was  slight,  his  figure  stooping, 
his  digestion  very  weak. — And  there  he  sat  at  his  table,  scrawl- 
ing his  apostilles.  The  fine  innumerable  threads  which  stretched 
across  the  surface  of  Christendom,  and  covered  it  as  with  a  net, 
all  converged  in  that  silent  cheerless  cell.  France  was  kept  in 
a  state  of  perpetual  civil  war;  the  Netherlands  had  been  con- 
verted into  a  shambles  ;  Ireland  was  maintained  in  a  state  of 
chronic  rebellion  ;  etc.* — There  were  many  who  thought  as 
I  did,  but  we  were  not  asked,  were  not  counted.  We  had  but 
to  hold  our  tongues,  and  stand  quiet  and  see  the  Germans  enter 
Paris. — "This  winter,"  she  said  slowly,  "my  children  have  all 
died  for  want  of  food — one  by  one,  the  youngest  first.  Ever 
since  then  I  want  [have  wanted  ?]  to  hurt  something — always." 7 

1  Macaulay,  Speeches,  The  State  of  Ireland. 

*  Sc.  of  mediation.     (Case  (2)  (b).)        s  Motley  names  them  all.        4  Sc.  plot. 

6  Motley,  ut  cit.  6  Motley,  ut  cit.  "  Ouida,  A  Leaf  in  the  Storm. 


202  STYLE. 

— I  was  cooped  up  in  the  city  :  it  [?]  was  much  worse  than  the 
first  siege.  I  went  out  in  many  sorties.  I  made  no  doubt  he 
was  at  Versailles.  Then  you  know  this  other  war  came — the 
civil  war.  I  was  in  the  capital  still.  It  [?]  seemed  to  me  that 
the  people  were  in  the  right.  I  can  not  argue,  but  I  think  so 
still."1 

255.  The  relative  pronouns  and  other  relative  words 
were  once  used  in  English  (as  in  Latin  and  Greek)  to 
unite  both  independent  sentences  and  remotely  connected 
members  of  compound  sentences  ;  but  their  use  as  con- 
nectives would  now  seem  to  be  restricted  to  the  joining 
of  clauses  closely  related  in  thought.2  Thus,  the  follow- 
ing examples  are  undoubtedly  archaic  ; — 

The  Inconveniences  that  have  been  noted  in  calling  and  using 
Counsell,  are  three.  For  which  Inconveniences  the  Doctrine 
of  Italy  hath  introduced  Cabinet  Counsels.3 — I  wish  also,  in  the 
very  Middle,  a  Faire  Mount,  with  three  Ascents  and  Alleys 
enough  for  foure  to  walke  abreast ;  Which  I  would  have  to  be 
Perfect  Circles.3 — They  cast  them  into  prison,  charging  the 
jailor  to  keep  them  safely  :  who  thrust  them  into  the  inner 
prison.4 

"  My  name  is  Thomas  Mowbray,  duke  of  Norfolk, 
Who  hither  come,  engaged  by  my  oath."5 

But  the  following  are  correct ; — 

In  the  east,  where  [i.e.,  although  there]  they  knew  the  sun 
was  rising,  they  could  only6  see  the  livid  light  of  the  still  tower- 
ing flames.7 — The  threads  are  twisted  into  a  strong  cord,  which 
[=and  it]  is  dragging  us  to  an  evil  doom.8 — We  have  a  destiny 
which  \that~\  we  must  needs  fulfil  together.8 — In  all  these  hun- 
dred paces,  while  we  have  been  watching  him,  he  has  not  made 
one  of  those  caprioles  in  the  air,  which  are  a  characteristic  of 
his  natural  gait.8 

256.  The  sufficient  reasons  against  the  older  construction  are, 
(1)  that  the  demonstrative  or  the  personal  pronoun,  with  or 
without  a  connective  as  the  case  may  require,  is  more  definite, 

1  Ouida,  A  Bunch  of  Lilacs.  -\  221,  above.  3  Bacon,  Essays. 

4  Acts  xvi.  23,  24.  6Shakspere,  Rich  II,  I.  iii.  16. 

6  Place  this  word  properly.  *  Ouida,  A  Leaf  in  the  Storm. 

8  Hawthorne,  The  Marble  Faun,  passim. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — EXPLICIT    REFERENCE.  203 

and  therefore  clearer,  than  the  relative  ;  and  (2)  that  the  law  of 
Unit}- l  is  violated  by  the  union  of  two  sentences  so  far  inde- 
pendent in  thought. 

257.  With  this  single  exception,  all  English  connectives 
may  unite  independent  sentences  as  well  as  the  members 
of  a  compound  sentence  or  the  still  more  closely  related 
elements  of  the  simple  sentence.     For  example  ; — 

"But  2I  perceive,  my  dear,  auditors,  that  you  are  impatient 
for  the  remainder  of  my  discourse.  Impute  it,  I  beseech  you,  to 
no  defect  of  modesty,  if  I  insist  a  little  longer  on  so  fruitful  a 
topic  as  my  own  multifarious  merits.  It  is  altogether  for  your 
good.  The  better  you  think  of  me,  the  better  men  and  women 
will  you  find  yourselves.  I  shall  say  nothing  of  my  all  import- 
ant aid  on  washing  days  ;  though  on  that  account  alone,  I 
might  call  myself  the  household  god  of  a  hundred  families. 
Far  be  it  from  me  also  to  hint,  my  respectable  friends,  at  the 
show  of  dirty  faces  which  you  would  present  without  my  pains 
to  keep  you  clean.  Nor  will  I  remind  you  how  often,  when  the 
midnight  bells  make  you  tremble  for  your  combustible  town, 
you  have  fled  to  the  Town  Pump,  and  found  me  always  at  my 
post,  firm  amid  the  confusion,  and  ready  to  drain  my  vital 
current  in  your  behalf.  Neither  is  it  worth  while  to  lay  much 
stress  on  my  claims  to  a  medical  diploma.  Let  us  take,  etc. — 
Summer  or  winter,  nobody  seeks  me  in  vain  ;  for,  all  day  long, 
I  am  seen  at  the  busiest  corner,  just  above  the  market,  stretching 
my  arms  to  rich  and  poor  alike  ;  and  at  night,  I  hold  a  lantern 
over  my  head,  both  to  show  where  I  am,  and  [to]  keep  people 
out  of  the  gutters."  3 

258.  Objections  have  been  brought,  however,  to  four 
other  connectives  as  initial  words  in  the  sentence, — to 
and,  but,  for,  and  however.  As  early  as  Campbell's  time,* 
"some  critics,"  had  remarked  that  and  is  correct  only 
within  the  sentence ;  Mr.  G.  P.  Ouackenbos5  finds  in  the 
period  that  separates  independent  sentences  a  bar  to 
beginning  these  sentences  with  and  or  for  or  however; 

1 1  236,  above .  "  Begins  a  paragraph, 

s Hawthorne,  A  Rill  f mm  the  Town  Pump  (in   Twice-Told  Tales,  vol.  i.)— 
Three  sentences  in  nine  begin  with  conjunctions. 

4 Rhetoric ,  III.  ii.  b  -A  Course  in  Composition  and  Rhetoric. 


204  STYLE. 

an  anonymous  newspaper  book-reviewer  thinks  that  "a 
professor  of  rhetoric  should  know  that  a  sentence  usually 
should  not  begin  with  the  conjunction  but,  and,  or  for;" 
while  Prof.  A.  S.  Hill1  writes  as  follows; — 

"The  judicious  use  of  connective  particles — 'the  joints  or 
hinges  on  which  sentences  turn  ' — is  a  merit  of  style  ;  but  their 
misuse  is  a  serious  blemish.  ...  A  connective  which  serves 
no  purpose  is  worse  than  useless,  and  one  used  for  an  unsuit- 
able purpose  leads  astray. 

"And  and  but  are  frequent  offenders  in  both  ways.  They 
should  always  connect  words  or  clauses  closely  related  in 
meaning  and  similar  in  construction, — and,  by  way  of  addition 
(as  in  '  poor  and  honest ')  ;  but,  by  way  of  subtraction  or  oppo- 
sition (as  in  '  poor  but  honest '). 

"A  composition  should  never  begin  with  and  or  but;  for,  if 
nothing  comes  before  the  conjunction,  there  is  nothing  for  it  to 
connect  with  what  comes  after  ;  and  a  paragraph  should  rarely 
so  begin,  for  a  new  paragraph  indicates  that  there  is  a  break  in 
the  sense  too  important  to  be  bridged  by  a  conjunction.  A 
similar  objection  might  be  taken  to  the  employment  of  these 
words  at  the  beginning  of  a  sentence  ;  but  for  this  there  is  much 
good  usage." 

259.  But  all  this  is  plainly  without  sufficient  ground 
in  either  reason  or  authority.  Campbell  dissented  from 
the  remark  he  quotes;  Ouackenbos's  reason  is  simply 
laughable ;  and  though  Prof.  Hill  has  so  adroitly  mixed 
sound  sense  and  empty  argument  in  a  circle,  that  he 
has  doubtless  deceived  himself,  yet  he  not  only  is 
contradicted  by  every  good  author  and  by  the  philos- 
ophy of  the  construction,  but  is  inconsistent  with  himself. 
These  statements,  however,  must  be  made  in  detail  and 
supported  by  argument. 

259  a.  Campbell's  "critics  "  and  the  newspaper  Minos  do  not 
condescend  to  give  reasons  for  their  ostracism.  Perhaps,  like 
the  Attic  clown  who  voted  to  banish  Aristides,  they  "hate  "  the 
inoffensive  monosyllables  because  these  have  made  themselves 
so  useful  in  the  commonwealth  of  Language.     Perhaps,  like 

1  Principles,  p.  116. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — EXPLICIT    REFERENCE.  205 

one  who  must  be  nameless  here,  but  who  withdrew  his  objection 
the  moment  he  found  how  full  his  best-loved  English  books 
were  of  the  initial  connectives,  they  think  these  words  inelegant. 
Quackenbos's  reason  can  have  weight  with  such  writers  only  as 
dare  not  unite  by  a  link-word  what  a  law  of  punctuation  has 
put  asunder  ;  who  believe,  forsooth,  that  punctuation  governs 
expression,  not  that  it  is  a  mere  mechanical  device  to  assist  the 
eye  in  reading.  Prof.  Hill's  argument  will  be  reviewed  after  the 
following  general  considerations  in  the  case  have  been  set  out. 
260.  First,  whatever  can  be  truthfully  alleged  against  any  of 
the  four  proscribed  connectives  as  connectives,  holds,  of  course, 
with  equal  force  against  all  connectives  ;  for,  in  their  office  of 
connective,  all  words  that  unite  sentences  or  parts  of  sentences, 
whatever  their  technical  names  among  the  parts  of  speech  are 
simply  conjunctions  ;  and  whatever  one  conjunction  can  do,  as 
a  conjunction,  all  conjunctions  can,  of  course,  do  equally  well. 
Hence,  if  and  or  but  ox  for  or  any  other  connective  can  not  or 
should  not  unite  independent  sentences,  no  connective  can  or 
should  do  so  ;  and  both  sentences  and  paragraphs,  to  an  extent 
little  dreamed  of  till  their  structure  is  closely  examined,  must  fall 
apart  like  uncoupled  railroad  cars.  This  alternative  can  hardly 
recommend  itself  to  any  thoughtful  student  of  English  :  indeed, 
it  would  seem  far  preferable,  not  only  that  four  particular  con- 
nectives should  be  abused,  but  that  the  pages  of  English  books 
should  be  riddled  with  misused  connectives.  Of  course,  if  some 
special  disability  can  be  alleged  against  these  particles  that 
does  not  hold  against  other  connectives,  this  argument  fails. 
But  no  such  special  disability  is  alleged.  And,  but,  etc.  are  not 
more  inelegant  than  other  words  of  their  class  ;  that  they  are 
inelegant  at  all  is  disproved  by  the  fact  (established  below1) 
that  the  purest  English  writers  use  them  freely.  Even  Prof. 
Hill's  contention,  that  and  and  but  are  peculiarly  liable  to  be 
abused,  argues  only  for  their  judicious  use — not  for  their  disuse; 
and  caution  is  necessary  against  the  abuse  of  every  means  of 
expression  by  language.2 

1 U  264, 267. 

2  And,  by  the  way,  in  no  respect  more  than  in  the  use  of  conjunctions  within 
the  sentence — the  special  province,  according  to  Prof.  Hill,  of  and  and  but. 
Where  one  offence  is  committed  with  and  or  but,  as  initial  word:;,  scores  of 
offences  are  committed  with  these  words  internally,  (ji  220,  above);  and  as  a 
teacher  of  composition,  Prof.  Hill  knows  this.  Indeed,  his  first  words  quoted 
above  show  that  he  does  ;  but,  with  his  further  statement,  "  They  should  always 
connect,"  etc.,  he  commits  himself  hopelessly. 


206  STYLE. 

261.  Secondly,  most  English  connectives  (especially  and,  but, 
etc.)  are  so  insignificant  in  size,  and  so  unapt  to  attract  attention 
in  any  way,  that  they  may  be  used  the  oftener  without  injury  to 
style  ;  while  the  substitutes  for  them, — such  words  as  also, 
however,1  because — being  longer,  are  the  more  unmanageable, 
whether  placed  first  in  the  sentence  or  not. 

262.  Thirdly,  if  even  a  single  alternative  means  of  expression 
or  form  of  construction  is  cut  off  from  the  language  by  unneces- 
sary proscription,  Style  loses  in  variety,  or  even  in  clearness  or 
force,  and  the  writer  is  proportionately  crippled.2  What  folly, 
then,  to  lay  down  a  rule  that,  in  its  logical  consequences, 
banishes  all  connectives  from  the  first  place  in  the  sentence — 
to  diminish  one's  resources,  reduce  one's  armory,  and  then 
expect  to  fight  the  better  the  battle  of  efficient  communication 
of  thought ! 

263.  In  the  light  of  these  truths,  Prof.  Hill's  argument  must 
appear  weakness  itself.  It  plainly  rests  on  two  grounds,  one 
for  the  whole  composition,  another  (or  two  others  much  alike) 
for  the  paragraph  and  the  sentence; — (1)  "If  nothing  comes 
before  the  conjunction  [and  or  but]  there  is  nothing  for  it  to 
connect  with  what  comes  after;"  (2)  "A  new  paragraph 
(sentence)  indicates  that  there  is  a  break  in  the  sense  too  import- 
ant to  be  bridged  by  a  [that  is,  any]  conjunction."  Further, 
though  Prof.  Hill  distinctly  limits  his  first  statement  to  "  and  or 
but, ' '  the  reason  he  gives  why  these  words  can  not  begin  a  whole 
composition  is,  of  course,  an  equally  good  reason  why  no 
connective  can  be  so  employed.  Hence,  the  second  statement 
is  unconsciously  broadened,  till  the  general  assertion  is  made, 
that  the  gap  between  paragraphs  or  sentences  is  too  great  for 
any  conjunction  (and  therefore  any  connective)  to  bridge. 

In  a  personal  letter,  quoted  here  by  permission,  Prof.  Hill  claims  that  all 
that  can  fairly  be  inferred  from  his  text  is  that  initial  connectives  must  not  be 
abused.  "  The  sum  and  substance  of  what  I  say  about  and  and  but  is  that  they 
should  never  be  used  without  a  good  reason."  But  surely,  this  statement  is 
utterly  incompatible  with  his  printed  words,  "And  and  but  .  .  .  should  always 
connect  words  or  clauses" — not  sentences,  be  it  observed — and  with  the  fact 
that  not  a  single  initial  and  or  but  can  be  found  between  the  covers  of  his 
Principles,  except  in  quotation.     (See,  also,  §  263,  below.) 

1  However  is  not  always  a  full  substitute  for  but.  (See  the  next  foot-note  and 
Webster's  Dictionary,  s.  v.) 

2  Thus,  "  I,  however,  can  not  approve  of  it  "  and  "  I  can  not,  however,  approve 
of  it  "  certainly  differ  in  meaning;  while,  "  However,  I  cannot  approve  of  it  " 
is  not  only  a  variation  in  form,  but,  doubtless,  a  more  emphatic  summing  up  of 
what  has  gone  before, — that  in  opposition  to  which  the  new  sentence  is  set. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — EXPLICIT    REFERENCE.  207 

264.  But  (1)  there  may  be,  and  in  actual  literary  products 
there  sometimes  is,  not  a  little  before  the  whole  composition 
with  which  an  initial  and  or  but  may  properly  connect  what 
comes  after.     Thus,  the  prophet  Jonah,  in  the  English  version, 
begins,  "JVoza  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  unto  Jonah,  the  son 
of  Amittai,  saying,"  etc.     In  Hebrew,  the  initial  word  is  literally 
And  ;  the  thought  in  Jonah's  mind  seeming  to  be,  "The  word 
of  the  Lord  has  been  sent  to  many  prophets,  who  have  thus 
revealed  His  will  to  man.     And  now  to  me,  too,  Jonah  the  son 
of  Amittai,  has  this  mighty  revelation  come  :  Jonah,  too,  is  a 
prophet  of  the   Lord."     So,   Dickens   opens  his  A  Message 
from  the  Sea  with  these  words,  "  'And  a  mighty  sing'lar  and 
pretty  place  it  is'  .   .  .  said  Captain  Jorgan,  looking  up  at  it." 
The  conjunction  connects  much  that  is  told  later  in  the  story, 
but  which  is  really  antecedent  to  Captain  Jorgan's  remark,  with 
the  rest  that  follows  in  the  course  of  the  tale.     Compare,  "And 
so  it  was  announced  in  all  the  newspapers  of  Paris,  that  Prince 
Moleskine,  .   .   .  ,   was  about  to  return  to  his  own  country."1 
Of  course,  such  openings  are  abrupt  and  brusque  ;  but  often  an 
abrupt  or  even  a  brusque  opening   is   exactly  the   beginning 
desired  or  even  necessary.2     It  must  be  confessed,  however, 
and  it  ought  to  be  noted  by  the  student,  that  such  cases  are 
extremely  rare.     Prof.  Hill  errs  simply  in  forgetting  the  few 
examples  that  make  his  "  never  "  too  strong,  and  in  limiting  his 
remark  to  and  and  but. 

265.  (2)  Prof.  Hill's  other  allegation,  that  anew  paragraph  or 
a  new  sentence  indicates  a  break  in  the  sense  too  important  to 
be  bridged  by  a  conjunction,  is  (to  characterize  it  mildly)  a  bald 
assumption.  Not  one  scrap  of  evidence  is  adduced  by  him  to 
support  his  statement  ;  while  the  fact  that  the  best  English 
writers  habitually  begin  both  paragraphs  and  sentences  with 
conjunctions  abundantly  proves  that  a  conjunction  can  bridge 
the  gap  indicated  by  these  breaks.3 

>E.  C.  Grenville-Murray,  (a  powerful  rather  than  a  finished  writer.) 

2Three  other  examples  are  not  English  ;  but  they  may  be  given  with  a 
view  to  noting  how  writers  of  two  most  cultivated  peoples  thought  fit  to  be- 
gin their  works.  Aristophanes,  Lysistrate,  1.  1,  sets  a  character  to  exclaim- 
ing, byway  of  prologue,  'AAA'  el  ti?  ti%  BaKxe'°"  avras  eVdAecrei';  and  Euripides, 
Medea,  opens  with  a  phrase  that,  though  called  interjection,  really  connects 
the  whole  play  with  the  legend  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  E'i#'  d><6eA"  'Apyous  \xt\ 
SianrTavdai.  crKa^os.  So,  Virgil,  sEneid,  iv.  1,  "At  regina  gravi  jamdudum 
saucia  cura  Vulnus  alit  venis." 

3 1  267,  below. 


208  STYLE. 

266.  Hence,  Prof.  Hill's  whole  argument  falls.  The  question 
raised  is,  Ought  a  conjunction  to  do  so  and  so?  The  point  at 
issue  is,  Can  a  conjunction  do  this  work?  No,  says  Prof.  Hill, 
it  can  not,  and  therefore  it  ought  not.  But,  surely,  this  is  not 
reasoning.  It  is  a  bold,  ill-concealed,  begging  of  the  whole 
question  ;  and  this  directly  in  the  face  of  Prof.  Hill's  own 
concession  that  ' '  much  good  usage  ' '  can  be  found  for  the 
construction.  Initial  and  and  but  do  bridge  the  gap  between 
sentences  :  yet  they  can  not ! ' 

267.  Finally,  the  authority  of  both  rhetoricians  and  standard 
writers  is  uncompromisingly  against  any  such  proscription  of 
connectives.  Campbell  (as  has  been  said)  assails  the  position 
taken  by  some  of  his  contemporaries;2  Blair  seems  never  to 
have  heard  of  the  objections  that  Campbell  notes  ;3  Lord  Karnes 
was  engrossed  by  the  higher  questions  of  his  art ;  Whately, 
Bain,  nearly  the  whole  catalogue  of  professed  rhetoricians, 
either  ignore  the  rule  or  laugh  it  to  scorn.  Against  these 
names,  the  ad  captandum  decisions  recorded  above  weigh  liter- 
ally as  the  dust  in  the  balance.  Usage,  too,  is  undeniably  on 
the  same  side.  Initial  and's— and  especially  ditt's  and  for's — 
can    be  found  on    the   pages,    not  only  of   average  writers, 

1 1  397.  below.— There  are  really  two  questions  raised  in  this  discussion,  (1) 
Ought  a  conjunction  to  begin  a  whole  composition?  (2)  Ought  it  to  begin  a 
sentence  or  a  paragraph  ?  but  the  rare  case  of  a  whole  composition  beginning 
with  a  conjunction  is  neglected  here  as  practically  of  no  importance. 

2  His  chief  argument  is  usage;  but  he  urges  also  the  inconsiderable  size 
of  and,  now,  etc.,  and  the  greater  length  and  unwieldiness  of  the  longer 
connectives,  as  well  as  the  loss  in  variety  entailed  by  the  cutting  off  of  even 
a  single  form  that  is  in  good  use,  and  to  which  no  valid  objection  has  been 
brought. 

3  Lectures,  XII. — Blair  speaks  of  the  misuse  of  and  internally,  but  does  not 
say  one  word  about  initial  and.  Yet  it  is  not  impossible — it  seems,  perhaps, 
probable — that  Campbell  meant  Blair  by  his  "some  critics."  In  1760,  when 
Campbell  was  writing  at  Aberdeen,  Blair  was  lecturing  at  Edinburgh,  and  this 
with  such  success  that  his  lectures  were  actually  "pirated"  and  published 
surreptitiously.  Now,  a  hundred  miles  in  Scotland,  anno  1760,  was  a  long 
distance,  and  Campbell  might  easily  have  been  imposed  upon  by  an  illegitimate 
copy  of  Blair's  book.  Prof.  Meiklejohn  (Life  and  Letters  of  IV.  B.  Hodgson, 
LL.D.,  p.  9,)  notes  the  fact  that  prayers  were  said  at  Edinburgh  for  George 
IV.  six  months  after  that  monarch  was  dead  ;  and,  if  this  was  possible  in  the 
second  quarter  of  the  19th  century,  what  need  be  doubted  of  the  third  quarter 
of  the  eighteenth?  Assuming,  then,  that  Blair  was  misunderstood  and  mis- 
represented — as,  of  course,  he  could  easily  have  been  on  such  a  point — nothing 
would  have  been  more  natural  than  for  Campbell  to  expose  in  a  parliamentary 
way  the  reported  blunder  of  his  great  contemporary  and  rival. 


THE   PARAGRAPH — PARALLEL   CONSTRUCTION.       200, 

but  of  the  best — indeed,  of  all — writers.  Even  Addison,  who 
(compared  with  most  other  writers)  uses  a  singularly  small 
number  of  initial  connectives  of  any  sort,  nevertheless  begins 
many  a  paragraph  and  sentence  with  one  or  another  of  the  four 
words  in  question.1  In  Shakspere,  in  Spenser,  Milton,  (both 
verse  and  prose),  in  Southey,  Carlyle,  De  Quincey,  Macaulay, 
Motley,  Bancroft,  Prescott,  Washington  Irving,  Hawthorne, 
George  Eliot,  in  the  most  imaginative,  as  well  as  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  writers,  the  construction  can  be  found  and  abund- 
antly.2 Indeed,  such  arbitrary  and  unfounded  statements  as 
those  of  Mr.  Quackenbos  and  Prof.  Hill  would  have  been 
scouted  at  once  by  all  habitual  readers  of  good  English,  had 
not  the  connectives  complained  of  been  so  common  and  (except 
however)  so  inconsiderable  in  size  as  scarcely  to  attract  the 
ordinary  reader's  attention.  Nor  could  and  or  but  or  any  other 
initial  conjunction  have  impressed  itself  so  painfully  on  any 
sensible  man's  literary  feelings,  had  he  not  been  suffering  from 
that  rhetorical  hysteria  which,  while  it  exalts  the  sensibilities, 
depraves  the  taste  and  debauches  the  judgment. 

3.  Parallel  Construction. 

268.  ' '  When  several  consecutive  sentences  iterate  or 
illustrate  the  same  idea,  they  should,  as  far  as  possible, 
be  formed  alike."  3     The  parallelism  of  form  is  a  natural 

1  In  The  Spectator,  No.  329,  there  are  fifteen  paragraphs  and  thirty  independent 
sentences.  Only  four  paragraphs  and  one  sentence  are  introduced  by  connect- 
ives,— indeed, further,  in  the  next  place,  then  (twice),  and  none  of  them  stand- 
ing first.  Yet  in  No.  335,  one  sentence  begins  with  however,  another  with  but, 
and  a  third  with  and ;  while,  in  No.  414,  one  paragraph  and  two  sentences 
begin  with  but. 

2  How  abundantly  the  following  statements  may  prove.  They  could  be 
multiplied  almost  indefinitely.  Motley,  The  United  Netherlands,  ch.  xv.,  begins 
thirty-four  sentences  with  one  or  another  of  the  four  condemned  copulatives ; — 
Edition  of  1868  (Harper  and  Brothers,  N.  Y.),  vol.  II,  p.  216,  2;  219,  220,  221, 
222,  each  1 ;  223,  225,  each  3 ;  230,  232,  236,  237,  238,  each  1  ;  239,  241,  each  2 ;  244, 
245,  246,  247,  248,  249,  250,  251,  252,  each  1;  254,  2;  255,  259,  each  1.  (Page- 
numbers  in  italics  refer  to  examples  of  these  words  beginning  paragraphs. 
Quoted  matter  is  not  counted.)  Hawthorne,  The  Marble  Faun,  vol.  ii.  chap's 
viii.  to  x.,  shows  seventeen  examples; — Edition  of  i860  (Ticknor  and  Fields, 
Boston),  pp.  93,  94,  95,  g6d,  yyd,  103,  106,  10S,  in,  \\2d,  113,  nsd,  each  1 ;  n6d, 
H7d,  each  2;  nS,  1.    (Examples  in  dialogue  are  marked  d.) 

3  Bain,  ut  cit. 

14 


2IO  STYLE. 

mode  of  expressing  the  parallelism  of  thought ;  just  as 
a  change  of  form  is  the  natural  mode  of  suggesting  a 
change  of  thought.     Thus  ; — 

(i)  "Now,  Sir,  the  first  charge  which  I  bring  against  Lord 
Ellenborough  is,  that  he  has  been  guilty  of  an  act  of  gross  dis- 
obedience, that  he  has  done  that  which  was  forbidden  in  the 
strongest  terms  by  those  from  whom  his  power  is  derived.  The 
Home  Government  says,  Do  not  interfere  in  the  concerns  of 
heathen  temples.  Is  it  denied  that  Lord  Ellenborough  has 
interfered  in  the  concerns  of  a  heathen  temple?  The  Home 
Government  says,  Make  no  presents  to  heathen  temples.  Is  it 
denied  that  Lord  Ellenborough  has  proclaimed  to  all  the  world 
his  intention  to  make  a  present  to  a  heathen  temple  ?  The 
Home  Government  says,  Do  not  decorate  heathen  temples.  Is 
it  denied  that  Lord  Ellenborough  has  proclaimed  to  all  the 
world  his  intention  to  decorate  a  heathen  temple  ?  The  Home 
Government  says,  Do  not  send  troops  to  do  honour  to  heathen 
temples.  Is  it  denied  that  Lord  Ellenborough  sent  a  body  of 
troops  to  escort  these  gates  to  a  heathen  temple  !  "  l 

(2)  "  No  sooner  had  they  arrived  than  Laval  and  Mezy,  the 
new  governor,  proceeded  to  construct  the  new  council.  Mezy 
knew  nobody  in  the  colony,  and  was,  at  this  time,  completely 
under  Laval's  influence.  The  nominations,  therefore,  were 
virtually  made  by  the  bishop  alone,  in  whose  hands,  and  not  in 
those  of  the  governor,  the  blank  commission  had  been  placed."2 

269.  When  joined  with  Balance,  this  assimilation,  produces 
an  even  stronger  effect ;  as,  "Agitation  and  rebellion,  you  say, 
are  in  kind  the  same  thing :  they  differ  only  in  degree.  Sir, 
they  are  the  same  thing  in  the  sense  in  which  to  breathe  a  vein 
and  to  cut  a  throat  are  the  same  thing.  There  are  many  points 
of  resemblance  between  the  act  of  the  surgeon  and  the  act  of 
the  assassin.  In  both  there  is  the  steel,  the  incision,  the  smart, 
the  bloodshed.  But  the  acts  differ  as  widely  as  possible  both 
in  moral  character  and  in  physical  effect."3  Had  the  last  three 
sentences  read, — They  are  the  same  thing  in  the  sense  in  which 
the  act  of  the  surgeon  and  the  act  of  the  assassin  are  the  same 
thing:  in  both  .  .  .  bloodshed.    But  the  acts  are  far  from  being 

1  Macaulay,  Speeches,  The  Gates  of  Somnauth. 
2Parkman,  The  Old  Rigime  in  Canada,  ch.  vii. 
3  Macaulay,  Speeches,  The  Ministry  of  Lord  Melbourne. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — PARALLEL    CONSTRUCTION.       211 

the  same  thing  in  .  .  .  effect, — the  parallelism  would  have  been 
yet  more  complete.  (But  see  \  271,  below.  Macaulay  wisely 
decided  in  favor  of  Variety.) 

270.  Two  means  to  Parallel  Construction  have  been 
noted; — (i)  "The  principal  subject  and  the  principal 
predicate  should  retain  their  positions  throughout ;"  (2) 
Corresponding  expressions  should  have  corresponding 
places.     For  example  ; — 

(1)  "He  [Mezy]  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  natures 
that  run  with  engrossing  vehemence  along  any  channel  into 
which  they  may  have  been  turned.  At  the  Hermitage  he  was 
all  devotee  ;  but  climate  and  conditions  had  changed,  and  he 
or  his  symptoms  changed  with  them.1  He  found  himself  raised 
suddenly  to  a  post  of  command,  or  one  which  was  meant  to  be 
such.  The  town  major  of  Caen 2  was  set  to  rule  over  a  region 
far  larger  than  France."  3 

(2)  "The  summer  of  1661  was  marked  by  a  series  of  calami- 
ties scarcely  paralleled  even  in  the  annals  of  this  disastrous 
epoch.  Early  in  February,  thirteen  colonists  were  surprised 
and  captured,  next  came  a  fight  between  a  large  band  of 
laborers  and  two  hundred  and  sixty  Iroquois ; 4  in  the  following 
month,  ten  more  Frenchmen  were  killed  or  taken  ;  and  hence- 
forth, till  winter  closed,  the  settlements  had  scarcely  a  breath- 
ing space."  5 

271.  But  the  laws  of  Variety6  and  Emphasis7  often  set 
this  rule  aside.  When  parallel  constructions  become 
monotonous,  especially  when  they  lead  to  the  misplacing 
of  emphatic  or  unemphatic  words,  they  cannot  be  prefer- 
able to  varied  forms,  ever  fresh  and  correctly  emphatic. 
Thus  ; — 

(1)  "Fortune  had  been  strangely  bountiful  to  him.8  The 
nations  of  Europe,  exhausted  by  wars  and  dissensions,  looked 

1  Better, — but  with  a  change  of  climate  and  conditions,  he  or  his  symptoms 
had  changed. 

•  That  is,  Mezy  himself.  3  Parkman,  id  cit.,  ch.  viii. 

4  Better, — a  large  band  of  laborers  met  and  fought  two  hundred  and  sixty 
Iroquois. 

5  Id.  ib.  ch.  ii.  6jJ338,  below.  T?2°4,  above.  8  Louis  XIV. 


212  STYLE. 

upon  him  with  respect  and  fear.  Among  weak  and  weary 
neighbors,  he  alone  was  strong.  The  death  of  Mazarin  had 
released  him  from  tutelage  ;  feudalism  in  the  person  of  Conde" 
was  abject  before  him  ;  he  had  reduced  his  parliaments  to 
submission ;  and,  in  the  arrest  of  the  ambitious  prodigal 
Fouquet.  he  was  preparing  a  crushing  blow  to  the  financial 
corruption  which  had  devoured  France.  Nature  had  formed 
him  to  act  the  part  of  King.  Even  his  critics  and  enemies 
praise  the  grace  and  majesty  of  his  presence,  and  he  im- 
pressed his  courtiers  with  an  admiration  which  seems  to  have 
been  to  an  astonishing  degree  genuine.  He  was  a  devout 
observer  of  the  forms  of  religion  ;  and,  as  the  buoyancy  of  youth 
passed  away,  his  zeal  was  stimulated  by  a  profound  fear  of  the 
devil.  Mazarin  had  reared  him  in  ignorance  ;  but  his  faculties 
were  excellent  in  their  way,  and,  in  a  private  station,  would 
have  made  him  an  efficient  man  of  business.  The  vivacity  of 
his  passions,  and  his  inordinate  love  of  pleasure,  were  joined 
tc  a  persistent  will  and  a  rare  power  of  labor.  The  vigorous 
mediocrity  of  his  understanding  delighted  in  grappling  with 
details.  His  astonished  courtiers  saw  him  take  on  himself  the 
burden  of  administration,  and  work  at  it  without  relenting  for 
more  than  half  a  century.  Great  as  was  his  energy,  his  pride 
was  far  greater.  As  king  by  divine  right,  he  felt  himself 
raised  immeasurably  above  the  highest  of  his  subjects ;  but, 
while  vindicating  with  unparalleled  haughtiness  his  claims  to 
supreme  authority,  he  was,  at  the  outset,  filled  with  a  sense  of 
the  duties  of  his  high  place,  and  fired  by  an  ambition  to 
make  his  reign  beneficent  to  France  as  well  as  glorious  to 
himself."1 

The  construction  is  carried  into  the  two  next  paragraphs, 
and  always  with  the  same  variety  and  correctness  of  emphasis. 
A  finer  example  of  intentional  non-parallelism,  where  parallel 
construction  would  have  been  unendurably  monotonous,  can 
not  easily  be  found.  The  student  should  rewrite  the  passage 
with  he  as  the  subject  throughout,  and  then  note  the  inferiority 
of  the  latter  form.  On  the  other  hand,  the  parallel  construction 
of  so  many  sentences  in  the  following  extract  grows  extremely 
wearisome,  and  would  be  utterly  unbearable,  were  it  not  for 
the  interrupting  passage,  "But  we  did  none  of  these  things 
...  to  be  perpetrated  in  open  day." 

1  Parkman,  nt  cit,  ch.  x. 


THE   PARAGRAPH — PARALLEL   CONSTRUCTION.       213 

(2)  "Now,  Sir,  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to  determine  in  what 
way  Christian  rulers  ought  to  deal  with  such  superstitions  as 
these.     We  might  have  acted  as  the  Spaniards  acted  in  the  New 
World.      We  might  have    attempted  to   introduce  our  own 
religion  by  force.     We  might  have  sent  missionaries  among  the 
natives  at  the  public  charge.     We  might  have  held  out  hopes 
of  public  employment  to  converts,  and  have  imposed  civil  dis- 
abilities on  Mahometans  and  Pagans.     But  we  did  none  of  these 
things  ;  and  herein  we  judged  wisely.     Our  duty,  as  rulers,  was 
to  preserve  strict  neutrality  on  all  questions  merely  religious  ; 
and  I  am  not  aware   that  we  have  ever  swerved  from  strict 
neutrality  for  the  purpose  of  making  proselytes  to  our  own  faith. 
But  we  have,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  sometimes  deviated  from  the 
right  path  in  the  opposite  direction.     Some  Englishmen,  who 
have  held  high  office  in  India,  seem  to  have  thought  that  the 
only  religion  which  was  not  entitled  to  toleration  and  to  respect 
was  Christianity.     They  regarded  every  Christian  missionary 
with  extreme  jealousy  and  disdain  ;  and  they  suffered  the  most 
atrocious  crimes,  if  enjoined  by  the  Hindoo  superstition,  to  be 
perpetrated  in  open  day.     It  is  lamentable  to  think  how  long 
after  our  power  was  firmly  established  in  Bengal,  we,  grossly 
neglecting  the  first  and  plainest  duty  of  the  civil  magistrate, 
suffered  the  practices  of  infanticide   and  suttee   to  continue 
unchecked.     We  decorated  the  temples  of  the  false  gods.     We 
provided  the  dancing  girls.     We  gilded  and  painted  the  images 
to  which  our  ignorant  subjects  bowed  down.     We  repaired  and 
embellished  the  car  under  the  wheels  of  which  crazy  devotees 
flung  themselves  at  every  festival  to  be  crushed  to  death.     We 
sent  guards  of  honor  to  escort  pilgrims  to  the  places  of  worship. 
We  actually  made  oblations  at  the  shrines  of  idols.     All  this 
was  considered,  and  is  still  considered,  by  some  prejudiced 
Anglo-Indians  of  the  old  school,  as  profound  policy.     I  believe 
that  there  never  was  so  shallow,  so  senseless  a  policy.     We 
gained  nothing  by  it.     We  lowered  ourselves  in  the  eyes  of 
those  whom  we  meant  to  flatter.     We  led  them  to  believe  that 
we  attached  no  importance  to  the  difference  between  Christianity 
and  heathenism.     Yet  how  vast  that  difference  is  !     I  altogether 
abstain  from  alluding  to  topics  which  belong  to  divines.    I  speak 
merely  as  a  politician  anxious  for  the  morality  and  the  temporal 
well  being  of  society,  and,  so  speaking,  I  say  that  to  countenance 
the  Brahmanical  idolatry,  and  to  discountenance  that  religion 
which  has  done  so  much  to  promote  justice,  and  mercy,  and 


214  STYLE. 

freedom,  and  arts,  and  sciences,  and  good  government,  and 
domestic  happiness,  which  has  struck  off  the  chains  of  the 
slave,  which  has  mitigated  the  horrors  of  war,  which  has  raised 
women  from  servants  and  playthings  into  companions  and 
friends,  is  to  commit  high  treason  against  humanity  and  civil- 
ization."1 

A  careful  study  of  the  passage  will  show  beyond  all  doubt 
that  Macaulay  intended  no  emphasis  on  his  constantly  recurring 
subject  we — still  less  on  /  in  the  last  three  sentences  ;  and  yet 
unless  such  emphasis  were  intended,  and  even  if  it  were  intended, 
the  many  repetitions  of  the  same  construction  are  terribly 
damaging.2 

272.  Where  emphasis  is  intended,  however,  the  parallel 
construction  is  a  most  certain  means  by  which  to  secure 
it.     Thus  ; — 

"An  army,  a  navy,  a  preventive  service,  a  police  force,  may 
do  their  work  whether  the  public  feeling  be  with  them  or  against 
them.  Whether  we  dislike  the  corn  laws  or  not,  your  custom 
houses  and  your  coast  guard  keep  out  foreign  corn.  The 
multitude  at  Manchester  was  not  the  less  effectually  dispersed 
by  the  yeomanry,  because  the  interference  of  the  yeomanry 
excited  the  bitterest  indignation.  There  the  object  was  to  pro- 
duce a  material  effect;  the  material  means  were  sufficient ;  and 
nothing  more  was  required.  But  a  Church  exists  for  moral 
ends.  A  Church  exists  to  be  loved,  to  be  reverenced,  to  be 
heard  with  docility,  to  reign  in  the  understandings  and  hearts 
of  men.3 

4.  Method. 

273.  "A  paragraph  should  be  consecutive,  or  free 
from  dislocation ' '  ;  that  is,  the  several  thoughts  ex- 
pressed in  it  should  follow  each  other  in  their  natural 
order,  and  the  whole  paragraph  move  forward  step  by 

'Macaulay,  Tlic  Gates  of  Somnauth. 

2  See  §  272,  below. — Of  course,  allowance  must  be  made  for  the  fact  that  the 
extract  is  from  a  speech.  Macaulay  perhaps  never  wrote  so  ill  in  his  History 
or  his  Essays. 

8 Id.,  The  Church  of  Ireland. — The  parallelism  of  the  concluding  sentences 
is  all  the  more  marked  because  of  the  intentional  variety  of  form  of  the  other 

sentences. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — METHOD.  21  5 

step  from  the  topic-sentence  to  the  close.  "Each  para- 
graph," says  Prof.  Bain,  "has  a  plan  dictated  by  the 
nature  of  the  composition.  According  to  such  plan, 
every  pertinent  statement  has  a  suitable  place ;  in  that 
place,  it  contributes  to  the  general  effect ;  and,  out  of 
that  place,  it  makes  confusion."  Orderly  arrangement 
of  course  assists  the  reader  by  concentrating  his  atten- 
tion :  a  want  of  method  embarrasses  him  by  unnecessarily 
taxing  his  attention.  Of  the  two  examples  that  follow, 
the  first  is  correct,  the  second  contains  serious  disloca- 
tions ; — 

(1)  "When  the  news  that  he1  had  been  stopped,  insulted, 
roughly  handled,  and  plundered,  and  that  he  was  still  a  pris- 
oner in  the  hands  of  rude  churls,  reached  the  capital,  many 
passions  were  roused.  [Topic-sentence.]  Rigid  Churchmen, 
who  had,  a  few  hours  before,  begun  to  think  that  they  were 
freed  from  their  allegiance  to  him,  now  felt  misgivings.  He 
had  not  quitted  his  kingdom.  He  had  not  consummated  his 
abdication.  If  he  should  resume  his  regal  office,  could  they, 
on  their  principles,  refuse  to  pay  him  obedience?  [First 
Specification.]  Enlightened  statesmen  foresaw  with  concern 
that  all  the  disputes  which  his  flight  had  for  a  moment  set  at 
rest  would  be  revived  and  exasperated  by  his  return.  [Second 
specification.]  Some  of  the  common  people,  though  still 
smarting  from  recent  wrongs,  were  touched  with  compassion  for 
a  great  prince  outraged  by  ruffians,  and  were  willing  to  enter- 
tain a  hope,  more  honourable  to  their  good  nature  than  to  their 
discernment,  that  he  might  even  now  repent  of  the  errors 
which  had  brought  on  him  so  terrible  a  punishment."  [Third 
specification.  ]'- 

(2)  "  Norwich  was  the  capital  of  a  large  and  fruitful  province. 
[Topic-sentence.]  It  was  the  residence  of  a  bishop  and  of  a 
chapter.  It  was  the  chief  seat  of  the  chief  manufacture  of  the 
realm.  Some  men  distinguished  by  learning  and  science  had 
recently  dwelt  there  ;  and  no  place  in  the  kingdom,  except  the 
capital  and  the  universities,  had  more  attractions  for  the  curious. 
[The  second  of  these  three  specifications  properly  belongs 
first ;  so  that  the  first  and  the  third,  closely  related,  may  stand 

1James  II.  2  Macaulay,  History  of  England,  ch.  x. 


2l6  STYLE. 

together.]  The  library,  the  museum,  the  aviary,  and  the 
botanical  garden  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  were  thought  by  the 
Fellows  of  the  Royal  Society  well  worthy  of  a  long  pilgrimage. 
[Correctly  placed.]  Norwich  had  also  a  court  in  miniature. 
[This  'court  in  miniature  '  is  then  most  amply  described,  but 
the  paragraph  closes  abruptly.]  In  the  year  1693,  the  popula- 
tion of  Norwich  was  found,  by  actual  enumeration,  to  be 
between  twenty-eight  and  twenty-nine  thousand  souls."  [A 
statement  utterly  misplaced  after  the  "court  in  miniature,"  and 
properly  belonging  either  with  or  even  before  the  earlier  speci- 
fications. Its  fittest  place  would  seem  to  be  immediately  after 
the  topic-sentence.]  l 

5.  Unity. 

274.  Unity  requires  that  every  statement  in  the  para- 
graph shall  be  subservient  to  one  principal  affirmation. 
This  principal  affirmation  is,  of  course,  the  topic-sen- 
tence, which  sets  forth  the  subject  of  the  paragraph.  To 
this  everything  that  has  any  right  to  a  place  in  the 
paragraph  must  be  related,  either  as  explanation,  speci- 
fication, illustration,  or  in  some  other  definite  way. 
Anything  not  so  related  forms  a  digression,  and,  accord- 
ing to  its  length  and  its  subject-matter,  more  or  less 
diverts  the  reader's  attention.  Such  a  digression  should 
be  put  into  an  independent  paragraph.     Thus  ; — 

(1)  "On  returning  to  our  own  frontiers,  I  had  an  opportunity 
of  displaying  my  exemplary  greenness.  [Topic-sentence.] 
That  message  to  my  brother  with  all  its  virus  of  insolence  I 
repeated  as  faithfully  for  the  spirit,  and  as  literally  for  the 
expressions,  as  my  memory  allowed  me  to  do  ;  and  in  that 
troublesome  effort,  simpleton  that  I  was,  fancied  myself  exhib- 
iting a  soldier's  loyalty  to  his  commanding  officer.  [Specifica- 
tion.] My  brother  thought  otherwise  :  he  was  more  angry  with 
me  than  with  the  enemy. — I  ought,  he  said,  to  have  refused 
all  participation  in  such  sans  cullotes*  insolence;  to  carry  it 
was  to  acknowledge  it  as  fit  to  be  carried.  [Contrasting  Sen- 
tence.]    One  grows  wiser  every  day;    and  on  this  particular 

1Macaulay,  History  of  England,  ch.  iii. 

2 The  spelling  in  the  Author's  Library  Edition  (Boston,  1873.) 


THE   PARAGRAPH — UNITY.  21J 

day  I  made  a  resolution  that,  if  again  made  prisoner,  I  would 
bring  no  more  'jaw'  (so  my  brother  called  it)  from  the  Philis- 
tines. If  these  people  would  send  'jaw,'  I  settled  that,  hence- 
forwards,  it  must  go  through  the  post-office."     [Reflection.] 1 

(2)  "  My  father  was  a  merchant ;  not  in  the  sense  of  Scotland, 
where  it  means  a  retail  dealer,  one,  for  instance,  who  sells 
groceries  in  a  cellar,  but  in  the  English  sense,  a  sense  rigorously 
exclusive  ;  that  is,  he  was  a  man  engaged  in  foreign  commerce, 
and  no  other  ;  therefore,  in  wholesale  commerce,  and  no  other 
— which  last  limitation  of  the  idea  is  important,  because  it 
brings  him  within  the  benefit  of  Cicero's  condescending  dis- 
tinction as  one  who  ought  to  be  despised  certainly,  but  not  too 
intensely  to  be  despised  even  by  a  Roman  senator.  [Though 
punctuated  as  a  sentence,  this  medley  contains  three  independ- 
ent statements,  each  of  which  should  be  in  a  sentence  by  itself. 
The  third  mars  the  unity  of  the  paragraph  even  worse  than  the 
further  digression  described  below.]  He — this  imperfectly 
despicable  man — died  at  an  early  age,  and  very  soon  after  the 
incidents  recorded  in  this  chapter,  leaving  to  his  family,  then 
consisting  of  a  wife  and  six  children,  an  unburdened  estate 
producing  exactly  sixteen  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Naturally, 
therefore,  at  the  date  of  my  narrative — whilst  he  was  still  living 
— he  had  an  income  very  much  larger,  from  the  addition  of 
current  commercial  profits."  2 

The  paragraph  then  broadens  into  a  detailed  discussion  of 
the  scale  of  living  common  in  an  English  merchant's  family. 
It  cites  facts,  proves  England  "the  paradise  of  household  ser- 
vants," makes  a  contrast  in  this  respect  between  merchants' 
and  the  poorer  noblemen's  families,  comments  on  the  conse- 
quent "disturbance  upon  the  usual  scale  for  measuring  the 
relations  of  rank,"  and  warns  the  reader  not  to  think  De 
Quincey's  family  of  higher  rank  than  it  really  was.  In  a  word, 
after  this  trying  digression,  it  ends  exactly  where  it  began, 
"My  father  was  a  merchant."  If  the  digression  was  in  any 
sense  necessary,  it  should  have  been  put  into  a  paragraph  by 
itself.  (Compare  the  next  example.)  But  De  Quincey  pain- 
fully often  neglected  Unity,  and  crowded  his  paragraphs  (as  he 
did  his  sentences)  with  digressions,  till  the  reader's  patience  is 
(and  should  be)  quite  exhausted. 

1  De  Quincey,  Autobiographic  Sketches,  ch.  ii. 

2  Autobiographic  Sketches,  ch.  i. 


2l8  STYLE. 

(3)  "  The  circumstances  which  attended  the  sudden  dissolu- 
tion of  this  most  tender  connection  I  will  here  rehearse.  And, 
that  I  may  do  so  more  intelligibly,  I  will  first  describe  that 
serene  and  sequestered  position  which  we  occupied  in  life. 

"Any  expression  of  personal  vanity,  intruding  upon  impas- 
sioned records,  is  fatal  to  their  effect — as  being  incompatible 
with  that  absorption  of  spirit  and  that  self-oblivion  in  which 
only1  deep  passion  originates  or  can  find  a  genial  home.  It 
would,  therefore,  to  myself  be  exceedingly  painful  that  even  a 
shadow,  or  so  much  as  a  seeming  expression  of  that  tendency, 
should  creep  into  these  reminiscences.  And  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  so  impossible,  without  laying  an  injurious  restraint 
upon  the  natural  movement  of  such  a  narrative,  to  prevent 
oblique  gleams  reaching  the  reader  from  such  circumstances  of 
luxury  or  aristocratic  elegance  as  surrounded  my  childhood, 
that  on  all  accounts  I  think  it  better  to  tell  him,  from  the  first, 
with  the  simplicity  of  truth,  in  what  order  of  society  my  family 
moved  at  the  time  from  which  this  preliminary  narrative  is 
dated.  Otherwise  it  might  happen  that  merely  by  reporting 
faithfully  the  facts  of  this  early  experience,  I  could  hardly 
prevent  the  reader  from  receiving  an  impression  as  of  some 
higher  rank  than  did  really  belong  to  my  family.  And  this 
impression  might  seem  to  have  been  designedly  insinuated  by 
myself. 

"  My  father  was  a  merchant ;  "  etc.  (as  in  Ex.  (2),  above.)"1 

275.  But  the  rule  admits  of  many  exceptions  ;  and 
dogmatic  or  cramping  statements  of  it  are  to  be  as 
carefully  avoided  as  are  similar  statements  of  the  rule  for 
Unity  in  the  sentence.  Poetry,  especially,  may  violate 
the  law  ;  and  naturally,  for  its  object  is  to  please  rather 
than  to  instruct.  But  even  in  Prose,  sentences  that 
are  "merely  explanatory  or  qualifying"  may  acquire  a 
"dangerous  prominence,"  if  placed  in  a  paragraph 
alone.     Thus  ; — 

"  Meanwhile  the  old  man  looked  through  the  sketches  and 
studies  with  which  the  room  was  strewed. 

"  '  You  do  not  finish  your  things  ? '  he  said  abruptly. 
"Rene  flushed  darkly. 

*  Alone.  2Id.  ib. 


THE  PARAGRAPH — DUE  PROPORTION.      2IO, 

"  '  Oil  pictures  cost  money,'  he  said  briefly,  '  and — I  am  very 
poor.' 

"Though  a  peasant's  son,  he  was  very  proud  :  the  utterance 
must  have  hurt  him  much. 

"  The  stranger  took  snuff. 

"  '  You  are  a  man  of  singular  genius,'  he  said  simply.  '  You 
only  want  to  be  known  to  get  the  prices  of  Meissonier. ' "  * 

276.  At  the  same  time,  the  rule  may  be  made  more 
stringent  for  the  paragraph  than  for  the  sentence.  Para- 
graph-digressions occupy  more  room,  and,  hence,  create 
the  greater  confusion.  Sometimes  a  connective  may  be 
introduced  to  mark  the  change  of  track,  and,  of  course, 
should  be,  if  possible,  even  at  the  beginning  of  inde- 
pendent paragraphs." 

6.  Due  Proportion. 

277.  The  several  sentences  or  parts  of  sentences  in  a 
paragraph  must  be  in  due  proportion  :  the  principal 
statements  must  not  be  outweighed  by  the  subordinates, 
but,  as  in  the  sentence,  everything  must  ' '  have  bulk  and 
prominence  according  to  its  importance. ' '     Thus  ; — 

(1)  "I  have  mentioned  already  that  we  had  four  male  guar- 
dians, (a  fifth  being  my  mother.)  These  four  were  B.,  E.,  G., 
and  H.  The  two  consonants,  B.  and  G.,  gave  us  little  trouble. 
G.,  the  wisest  of  the  whole  band,  lived  at  a  distance  of  more 
than  one  hundred  miles  ;  him,  therefore,  we  rarely  saw  ;  but 
B.,  living  within  four  miles  of  Greenhay,  washed  his  hands  of 
us  by  inviting  us,  every  now  and  then,  to  spend  a  few  days  at 
his  house."3     [In  proportion.] 

(2)  See  Example  (2),  \  274,  above. — In  it  the  modifying 
statements  far  outweigh  the  principals,  and  require  condensa- 

1  Ouida,  A  Provence  Rose,  III. — Some  allowance  must  be  made  for  the 
fact  that  the  stranger  is  on  the  point  of  proposing  to  the  starving  artist  to  do 
a  dishonorable  act. 

2  For  example,  De  Quincey  begins  a  paragraph  digression,  Xow,  to  any  man 
who  is  acquainted  with  commercial  life  as  it  exists  in  England. 

3De  Quincey,  ut  cit.,  ch.  ii. 


220  STYLE. 

tion.  The  bare  facts  that  it  relates,  are,  (a)  My  father  was  an 
English  merchant,  (b)  He  died  at  an  early  age  soon  after  the 
incidents  recorded  in  this  chapter,  leaving  his  wife  and  six 
children  an  unburdened  estate  of  sixteen  hundred  pounds  a  year, 
(c)  Naturally,  therefore,  his  own  income  had  been  much  larger. 
Now,  these  facts  may,  of  course,  be  appreciably  expanded  by 
modifying  statements,  and  yet  the  proportion  of  the  paragraph 
be  undisturbed  ;  but  much  of  what  De  Quincey  has  crowded 
in  must  be  thrown  into  a  separate  paragraph  or  be  omitted. 
Thus,  the  following  re-writing  probably  carries  the  insertion  of 
modifying  matter  to  its  extreme  ; — 

My  father  was  an  English  merchant ;  that  is,  one  engaged  in 
foreign,  and  therefore  wholesale,  commerce.  As  a  wholesale 
dealer,  he  came  within  the  benefit  of  Cicero's  condescending 
distinction  as  one  who  certainly  ought  to  be  despised,  but  not 
too  intensely  even  by  a  Roman  Senator.  He  died,  etc.,  as  in 
(b),  above.     Naturally,  therefore,  etc.,  as  in  (c)  above. 

In  Scotland,  the  word  merchant  means  a  retail  dealer,  one, 
for  instance,  who  sells  groceries  in  a  cellar ;  but  the  English 
sense  of  the  term  is  rigorously  exclusive.  The  limitation  of  the 
term  is  important  ;  for  it  leaves  my  father  only  an  imperfectly 
despicable  man — a  man  whose  current  commercial  profits  made 
him  undeniably  rich. 

But  the  additional  paragraph  is  an  unnecessary  digression 
and  therefore  weak. 

7.  Climax.     Bathos. 

278.  A  paragraph  or  even  a  single  (compound)  sen- 
tence may  be  so  arranged  that  its  "first  part  prepares 
the  way  for  the  middle,  and  the  middle  for  the  end,  in  a 
kind  of  ascent. ' '  '  This  ascent  is  called  Climax ;  its 
opposite  descent,  Bathos.  Either  may  be  intentional 
or  accidental ;  but  Climax  is  always  an  excellence,  unin- 
tentional Bathos  a  glaring  defect.  Intentional  Bathos 
may  be  humorous  or  pathetic  or  witty, — may  create  a 
good-natured  laugh  or  start  a  tear  or  point  a  stinging 
sarcasm.     Thus  ; — 

1  Abbott,  How  to  Write  Clearly,  R.  39. 


THE    PARAGRAPH — CLIMAX.  221 

(i)  "An  open  (a),  tolerant  (V),  a"d  kindly  {a")  temper,  that 
welcomes  confidence  (b),  that  overlooks  faults  (£'),  that  makes 
much  of  any  good  in  other  men  (£"),  that  easily  forgives 
wrong  ib'")."1 

"  As  the  railroad  track  sweeps  through  the  towns  which 
string  themselves  along  it  (a),  climbs  mountains  and  plunges 
into  valleys  (a/),  hides  itself  in  forests  and  flashes  out  again 
into  broad  plains  and  along  the  sides  of  happy  lakes  {a"),  and 
evidently  cares  nothing  for  them  all  except  as  they  just  give  it 
ground  on  which  to  roll  out  its  length  towards  its  end  by  the 
shore  of  the  Pacific  {a"'), — so  this  man's  life  pierces  right  on 
through  all  the  tempting  and  perplexing  complications  of  our 
human  living  (b),  and  will  not  rest  until  it  has  attained  the 
mastery  of  legal  power  (6/)."  2 

"The  same  is  true  about  the  sympathy  of  the  rich  (a)  with 
the  poor  (b),  of  the  believer  (of)  with  the  doubter  (b'),  of 
the  hopeful  (a//)  with  the  despondent  (b/f),  of  the  liberal 
{a'")  with  the  bigoted  (b"f)  ;  aye,  even  of  the  saint  {a"") 
with  the  sinner  (^////)."3 

"And  herein  lies  the  great  miracle  of  speech,  the  strongest 
proof  of  its  living  (a),  organic  (a') — I  had  almost  said  divine 
{a") — power,  that  even  as  the  processes  of  vegetable  life  build 
up  (b),  assimilate  {br),  vivify  (b/r),  and  transform  into  self-sus- 
taining (r),  growing  (c/),  and  fruitful  (c//)  forms  [b'")  the  dead 
material  of  mechanical  nature,  so  language  "  etc.4, 

(2)  "Sir,  they5  are  grand,  they  are  splendid;  there  are  not 
twelve  men,  sir,  in  Boston  who  could  have  written  those 
plays."6 

"Such  a  derangement  must  have  reduced  society  to  its 
first  elements,  and  led  to  a  direct  collision  of  conflicting 
interests."  * 

"Language  can  inform  them7  with  the  spiritual  philosophy 
(a')  of  the  Pauline  epistles  (br)  the  living  thunder  (a")  of  a 
Demosthenes  (bf/),  or  the  material  picturesqueness  (a)  of  a 
Russell^)."8 

1  Phillips  Brooks,  Sermcns,  vol.  ii.  p.  226.  -  Id.  ib.  p.  114. 

3Id.  ib.  p.  120.  *G.  P.  Marsh,  Lectures,  i.  288. 

5  The  plays  of  Shakspere.  6  Quoted  by  Hodgson,  Errors  in  English. 

"  Inexpressive  articulate  sounds. 

8Geo.  P.  Marsh,  Lectures,  i.  p.  2S9.  (Cited  by  A.  S.  Hill, p.  135.)  Singularly 
enough,  the  same  sentence  contains  the  three  exceptionally  fine  climaxes  last 
quoted  under(i),  above. 


222  STYLE. 

(3)    "  Then  fill  a  fair  and  honest  cup,  and  bear  it  straight  to  me  ; 
The  goblet  hallows  all  it  holds,  what'er  the  liquid  be  ; 
And  may  the  cherubs  on  its  face  protect  me  from  the  sin, 
That  dooms  one  to  those  dreadful  words,—'  My  dear,  where  have  you 
been?'"1 

"  May  the  blossom  of  your  heart — 

Eleanore — 
Be  a  rose  whose  petals  part 

But  to  pour 
Sweets  of  love  ; — and  if  there  be 
Tears  as  well  as  smiles  for  thee, 
May  they  be  the  dew  that  He 

Doth  restore. 

"  So,  a  kiss  before  you  go, 

Eleanore, 
(Reaching  up  to  me  tiptoe 

From  the  floor  ; — 
With  the  gold  around  your  head, 
And  your  dimpled  cheeks  so  red,) 
There — be  off  with  you  to  bed, 

Eleanore  !  "  - 

"  But  changing  hands,   it  3  reached  at  length  a  Puritan  divine, 
Who  used  to  follow  Timothy,  and  take  a  little  wine, 
But  hated  punch  and  prelacy  ;  and  so  it  was,  perhaps, 
He  went  to  Leyden,  where  he  found  conventicles  and  schnaps. 

[  From  Leyden  the  bowl  comes  over  in  the  Mayflower,  and  Miles  Standish 
and  his  soldiers  drink  "a  long  and  solemn  draught  "  from  it  on  the  eve  of  a 
battle  with  the  Indians.] 

"That  night,  affrighted  from  his  rest,  the  screaming  eagle  flew, 
He  heard  the  Pequot's  ringing  whoop,  the  soldier's  wild  halloo  ; 
And  there  the  sachem  learned  the  rule  he  taught  to  kith  and  kin  ; 
'  Run  from  the  white  man  when  you  find  he  smells  of  Hollands  gin.'"4 

"  When  George  the  Fourth  was  still  reigning  over  the  privacies 
of  Windsor,  when  the  Duke  of  Wellington  was  Prime  Minister, 
and  Mr.  Vincy  was  mayor  of  the  old  corporation  in  Middle- 
march,  Mrs.  Casaubon,  born  Dorothea  Brooke,  had  taken  her 
wedding  journey  to  Rome."  5 

1  O.  W.  Holmes,  On  Lending  a  Punch-Bowl,  st.  13. 

-C.  H.  L.  (in  the  Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin),  st.  5,  6. 

3  Dr.  Holmes's  punch  bowl. 

*  Holmes,  ut  cit.,  st.  4,  8.  5  George  Eliot.     (Cited  by  Prof.  Hill,  p.  135.) 


THE    WHOLE    COMPOSITION.  223 


IV. 
THE    WHOLE    COMPOSITION.1 

279.  The  laws  that  control  the  composition  as  a  whole 
are  derived  in  great  part  from  the  nature  of  the  thought 
expressed,  and  belong,  therefore,  to  Invention;'"'  but 
there  are  certain  other  rules  that  apply  to  ail  composi- 
tions, and  are  in  part,  at  least,  laws  of  form.  These 
belong  here. 

1.  The  Parts  of  a  Composition. 

280.  Considered  as  a  whole,  the  Composition  has  four 
parts,  two  essential  and  two  non-essential; — two  that 
should  be  found  in  every  composition  ;  two  that  may  be 
present,  but  need  not  be.     The  essential  parts  are  ; — 

(1)  The  Proposition,  which  sets  forth  the  limits 
within  which  or  the  end  for  which  the  subject  of  the 
composition  is  to  be  discussed,  or  else  states  the  precise 

form  in  some  other  particular  that  the  work  proposed  is 
to  take  ; 

(2)  The  Discussion,  which  is  the  body  of  the  compo- 
sition, and  contains  what  is  said  of  the  theme  as  limited 
in  the  Proposition. 

The  non-essential  parts  are  ; — 

(1)  The  Introduction,  which  contains  necessary 
prelimi?iary  matter ; 

(2)  The  Conclusion,  which  contains  necessary  matter 
by  way  of  summary,  of  general  enforcement  of  the  truths 
taught,  etc. 

281.  Thus,  Matthew  Arnold's  essay  On  Translating  Homer* 
opens  as  follows  ; — 

ljS  170,  above.  ~  Part  Second,  below. 

3 Essays  in  Criticism  (New  Vork,  1877),  pp.  284  ff. 


224  STYLE. 

"  It  has  more  than  once  been  suggested  to  me  that  I  should 
translate  Homer.  That  is  a  task  for  which  I  have  neither  the 
time  nor  the  courage ;  but  the  suggestion  led  me  to  regard  yet 
more  closely  a  poet  whom  I  had  already  long  studied,  and  for 
one  or  two  years  the  works  of  Homer  were  seldom  out  of  my 
hands.  The  study  of  classical  literature  is  probably  on  the 
decline  ;  but,  whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  this  study  in  general, 
it  is  certain  that,  as  instruction  spreads  and  the  number  of 
readers  increases,  attention  will  be  more  and  more  directed  to 
the  poetry  of  Homer,  not  indeed  as  part  of  a  classical  course, 
but  as  the  most  important  poetical  monument  existing.  Even 
within  the  last  ten  years  two  fresh  translations  of  the  Iliad  have 
appeared  in  England  :  one  by  a  man  of  great  ability  and  genuine 
learning,  Professor  Newman  ;  the  other  by  Mr.  Wright,  the 
conscientious  and  painstaking  translator  of  Dante.  It  may 
safely  be  asserted  that  neither  of  these  works  will  take  rank  as 
the  standard  translation  of  Homer  ;  that  the  task  of  rendering 
him  will  still  be  attempted  by  other  translators.  [Introduction.] 
It  may  perhaps  be  possible  to  render  to  these  some  service,  to 
save  them  some  loss  of  labor,  by  pointing  out  rocks  on  which 
their  predecessors  have  split,  and  the  right  objects  on  which  a 
translator  of  Homer  should  fix  his  attention."     [Proposition.] 

Then  follows  an  elaborate  discussion,1  comprising,  of  course, 
the  bulk  of  the  essay;  and  then  another  single  paragraph,2  con- 
cluding the  whole  matter  ; — 

"  Here  I  stop.  I  have  said  so  much,  because  I  think  that  the 
task  of  translating  Homer  into  English  verse  both  will  be 
re-attempted,  and  may  be  re-attempted  successfully.  There 
are  great  works  composed  of  parts  so  disparate,  that  one  trans- 
lator is  not  likely  to  have  the  requisite  gifts  for  poetically 
rendering  all  of  them.  Such  are  the  works  of  Shakspere,  and 
Goethe's  Faust :  and  these  it  is  best  to  attempt  to  render  in 
prose  only.  People  praise  Tieck  and  Schlegel's  version  of 
Shakspere  :  I,  for  my  part,  would  sooner  read  Shakspere  in  the 
French  prose  translation,  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal ;  but 
in  the  German  poets'  hands  Shakspere  so  often  gets,  especially 
where  he  is  humorous,  an  air  of  what  the  French  call  niaiserie  ! 
and  can  anything  be  more  un-Shaksperian  than  that?  Again  ; 
Mr.  Hayward's  prose  translation  of  the  first  part  of  Faust — so 
good  that  it  makes  one  regret  Mr.  Hayward  should  have 
abandoned  the  line  of  translation  for  a  kind  of  literature  which 

i  Pp.  285-367.  i  Pp.  367-s. 


THE    PARTS    OF    A    COMPOSITION.  225 

is,  to  say  the  least,  somewhat  slight — is  not  likely  to  be  surpassed 
by  any  translation  in  verse.  But  poems  like  the  Iliad,  which, 
in  the  main,  are  in  one  manner,  may  hope  to  find  a  poetical 
translator  so  gifted  and  so  trained  as  to  be  able  to  learn  that 
one  manner,  and  to  reproduce  it.  Only,  the  poet  who  would 
reproduce  this  must  cultivate  in  himself  a  Greek  virtue  by  no 
means  common  among  the  moderns  in  general,  and  the  English 
in  particular — moderation.  For  Homer  has  not  only  the  English 
vigor,  he  has  the  Greek  grace ;  and  when  one  observes  the 
bolstering,  rollicking  way  in  which  his  English  admirers — even 
men  of  genius,  like  the  late  Professor  Wilson — love  to  talk  of 
Homer  and  his  poetry,  one  cannot  help  feeling  that  there  is  no 
very  deep  community  of  nature  between  them  and  the  object 
of  their  enthusiasm.  '  It  is  very  well  my  good  friends,'  I  always 
imagine  Homer  saying  to  them,  if  he  could  hear  them  :  '  you  do 
me  a  great  deal  of  honor,  but  somehow  or  other  you  praise  me 
too  like  barbarians.'  For  Homer's  grandeur  is  not  the  mixed 
and  turbid  grandeur  of  the  great  poets  of  the  north,  of  the 
authors  of  Othello  and  Faust ;  it  is  a  perfect,  a  lovely  grandeur. 
Certainly  his  poetry  has  all  the  energy  and  power  of  the  poetry 
of  our  ruder  climates  ;  but  it  has,  besides,  the  pure  lines  of  an 
Ionian  horizon,  the  liquid  clearness  of  an  Ionian  sky."1 

282.  Unless  something  must  be  said  by  way  of  intro- 
duction or  conclusion,  the  work  consists  of  Proposition 
and  Discussion  alone.  Especially  if  a  work  grows  too 
long,  or  if  there  is  danger  of  wearing  out  the  reader's 
attention  by  unduly  postponing  ' '  the  gist  of  the  matter, ' ' 
or  by  allowing  the  interest  to  flag  after  the  discussion  is 
fairly  ended,  an  excellent  rule  is,  Cut  down  the  composi- 
tion by  lopping  off  both  introduction  and  conclusion. 
For  example  ; — 

Mr.  Arnold's  essay  The  Literary  Influence  of  Academies2 
opens  abruptly  thus ; — 

"  It  is  impossible  to  put  down  a  book  like  the  history  of  the 
French  Academy,  by  Pellison  and  D'Olivet,  which  M.  Charles 

1  Pp.  36S-424,  Last  Words,  really  constitute  a  separate  essay,  with  its  own 
introduction  ipp.  368-370),  double  proposition  (p.  370),  double  discussion  (371- 
389  and  389-423),  and  conclusion  (423-424.) 

21.1.,  pp.       ,   II 
15 


226  STYLE. 

Livet  lias  lately  re-edited,  without  being  led  to  reflect  upon  the 
absence,  in  our  own  country,  of  any  institution  like  the  French 
Academy,  upon  the  probable  causes  of  this  absence,  and  upon 
its  results.  [  Proposition.]  A  thousand  v<  dees  will  be  ready  to 
tell  us  that  this  absence  is  a  signal  mark  of  our  national 
superiority;  that  it  is  in  great  part  owing  to  this  absence  that 
the  exhilarating  words  of  Lord  Macaulay  lately  given  to  the 
world  by  his  very  clever  nephew,  Mr.  Treyelyan,  are  so  pro- 
foundly true  ;  '  It  may  safely  be  said  that  the  literature  now 
extant  in  the  English  language  is  of  far  greater  value  than  all 
the  literature  which  three  hundred  years  ago  was  extant  in  all 
the  languages  of  the  world  together.'  I  dare  say  this  is  so; 
only,  remembering  Spinoza's  maxim  that  the  two  great  banes 
of  humanity  are  self-conceit  and  the  laziness  coming  from  self- 
conceit,  I  think  it  may  do  us  good,  instead  of  resting  in  our 
pre-eminence  with  perfect  security,  to  look  a  little  more  closely 
why  this  is  so,  and  whether  it  is  so  without  any  limitations." 
[The  same  thought  expanded.] 

To  be  sure,  the  paragraphs  that  immediately  follow  this 
proposition  contain,  by  way  of  preparation,  "a  very  few  words 
on  the  outward  history  of  the  French  Academy  ;  "  but  these 
belong  to  the  discussion,  not  to  the  essay  as  a  whole,  and  are 
aimed  at  making  this  discussion  the  more  intelligible  :  they  are 
introductory,  of  course,  but  only  to  the  discussion,  not  to  the 
whole  work.  So,  the  concluding  paragraph  of  the  essay — 
Mr.  Arnold's  opinion  as  to  the  kind  of  academy  England  will 
some  day  found — is  rather  a  last  paragraph  of  the  discussion 
than  a  conclusion  to  the  essay  as  a  whole. 

Obedience  to  this  rule  would  have  saved  a  certain  preacher 
the  mistake  of  correcting  the  excessive  length  of  his  sermons 
by  making  them  (in  his  deacon's  words)  "all  introduction." 

283.  But  the  rule  must  be  construed  liberally. 
Although,  as  Bacon  says,  "to  use  too  many  Circum- 
stances, ere  one  come  to  the  matter,  is  Wearisome," 
it  is  also  true,  as  he  says,  that  "to  use  none  at  all  is 
Blunt ;"  and  while  a  reasonably  abrupt  opening  is  by  no 
means  objectionable,  excessive  abruptness  is  commonly 
to  be  avoided.  A  brief  introduction  or  conclusion  may, 
therefore,  be  admitted,  even  when  one  is  not  in  the 
strictest  sense  necessary.     Thus  ; — 


THE    PARTS    OF    A    COMPOSITION".  2    7 

The  essay  On  Translating  Homer  might  have  ended  without 
the  conclusion  quoted  above,  and  might  have  begun  as  follows  ; 
— "  It  may  safely  be  asserted  that  the  task  of  rendering  Homer 
into  English  will  be  attempted  by  yet  other  translators  ;  and  it 
may  perhaps  b;  possible"  etc.;  but  the  opening  would  then 
have  been  less  graceful,  the  mention  of  Newman's  and  Wright's 
translations  |  which  are,  in  fact,  reviewed  in  the  essay;  must  have 
been  made  elsewhere,  and  perhaps  awkwardly ;  while  the  reader 
would  have  missed  the  last  two  sentences  of  the  essay,  two  as 
beautiful  sentences  as  were  ever  penned  by  English  writer. 

At  the  same  time,  the  relative  proportions  of  the  non-essen- 
tial parts  of  this  essay — and  the  particular  example  Ls  most 
instructive — may  serve  to  emphasize  the  rule.  Of  nearly  eighty- 
five  closely-printed  post-octavo  pages  the}-  fill  but  two  ;  and  even 
these  two  might  have  been  omitted.  The  rule  is  a  good  work- 
ing dictum, — arbitrary,  perhaps,  and  quite  as  often  to  be  violated 
as  to  be  obeyed;  but  it  expresses  a  great  truth,  viz.,  that  it  is 
always  better  to  begin  at  once,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  important 
matter,  even  at  the  risk  of  a  moderately  abrupt  opening  or 
close,  than  to  allow  a  delay  in  coming  to  the  point  or  an  undue 
prolonging  of  the  subject  to  exhaust  or  even  severely  tax  a 
reader's — much  worse,  a  hearer's — patience.  The  strain'on  the 
attention,  to  say  nothing  of  the  confusion  of  thought  caused  by 
an  irrelevant  introduction  or  conclusion,  is  so  great  as  to  make 
the  omission  of  even  admissible  matter  safer  than  the  insertion 
of  matter  that  is  of  doubtful  importance. 

284.  It  is  not  pretended  that,  in  even*  work  by  a  com- 
petent writer,  these  parts  of  the  composition  are  thus 
clearly  defined.  Even  the  Proposition  and  the  Discus- 
sion may  not  be  marked  off  by  as  much  as  a  paragraph- 
break.  The  whole  matter  may  be  left  to  the  good  sense 
and  discrimination  of  the  reader.  But,  of  course,  in  any 
work  in  really  good  form,  both  the  limitation  of  the  sub- 
ject that  it  is  the  office  of  the  Proposition  to  set  clearly 
before  the  reader,  and  the  several  statements  about  this 
Proposition  that  it  is  the  office  of  the  Discussion  to  make, 
will  be  so  presented  that  the  reader  can  easily  and  at 
once  discover  them.  Thus,  to  take  yet  another  example 
from  the  same  writer  ; — 


22S  STYLE. 

a 

Mr.  Arnold's  essay  Marcus  Aurelius1  opens  by  quoting  John 
Stuart  Mill's  assertion  that  Christian  morality  is  inferior  to  the 
best  morality  of  the  ancients  ;  criticizes  this  remark  by  showing 
the  true  ground  and  the  inspiring  motive  of  any  system  of 
morals,  and  that  Christian  morality  both  rests  on  this  ground 
and  has  this  motive ;  cites  Epictetus  and  Jesus  side  by  side ; 
claims  that  Jesus'  statements  of  certain  great  truths  are  far 
superior  to  those  of  Epictetus  ;  has  a  sly  "rap  on  the  knuckles  " 
for  Mr.  Mill  ;  and  then  (in  the  first  sentence  of  a  new  paragraph) 
suggests  the  subject  of  his  essay,  as  follows; — "That  which 
gives  to  the  moral  writings  of  the  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius 
their  peculiar  character  and  charm,  is  their  being  suffused 
and  softened  by  something  of  this  very  sentiment  whence 
Christian  morality  draws  its  best  power."  2  The  balance  of  the 
essay  cares  as  little  for  orderly  arrangement,  and  leaves  the 
reader  as  unassisted  as  before.  It  mentions  a  "  recently  pub- 
lished" translation  of  Aurelius,  praises  this  translation  and 
then  brings  "one  or  two  little  complaints  against"  it,  speaks 
critically  of  Aurelius's  Greek,  gives  a  brief  biography  of  the 
Emperor,  and  finally  quotes  from  his  3lcd:fations  by  way  of 
illustrating  his  ethical  opinions.  The  close  is  quite  as  abrupt 
and  disjointed.  In  one  paragraph,  it  remarks  the  catholicity  of 
Aurelius's  moral  code  ;  in  a  second,  it  speaks  of  the  natural 
affinity  of  the  Roman  persecutor  of  the  Christians  for  Christian 
morality,  and  raises  the  at  once  vain,  yet  alluring,  question, 
What  effect  would  this  morality  have  had  upon  this  persecutor 
of  Christians,  could  he  only  have  known  it  in  its  reality  ? 

285.  But  this  plan  is  attended  with  no  little  danger. 
Unless  the  Proposition  (not  formally  expressed)  is  (1) 
perfectly  clear  in  the  writer's  own  mind,  and  (2)  made 
equally  clear  to  the  reader  or  hearer,  the  whole  work  not 
only  may  become  inartistic  in  form  and  unmethodical  in 
its  development  of  the  subject,  but  also  may  violate  the 
law  of  Unity;3  the  writer  becoming  confused  by  the 
details  of  his  work,  and  failing  of  his  mission  because 
the  reader  receives  nothing  intelligibly.  The  man  who 
himself  does  not  know  where  he  is  going  will  hardly 
guide  others  aright :  he  who  is  led  blindfolded  conceives 

1  Id.,  pp.  253  A".  2r-J57-  3§28g,  below. 


THE    PARTS   OF   A    COMPOSITION.  229 

many  a  false  idea  of  his  destination,  may  have  many  a 
stumble  or  even  fall. 

285  a.  A  fair  test  of  this  doctrine  is  to  read  side  by  side  two 
compositions  such  as  the  essays  last  quoted  from.  That  on  the 
Academies  is  clear,  because  its  plan  is  distinctly  laid  down 
from  page  to  page,  and  every  step  taken  in  pursuance  of  this 
plan  is  distinctly  announced.  The  writer  knows  where  he  is 
going,  and  the  reader  where  the  writer  is  taking  him.  After  the 
opening  quoted  above  (one  page),  three  pages  and  a  half  tell 
the  history  of  the  French  Academy  ;  two  pages  more  comment 
on  the  hostility  any  plan  to  set  up  a  high  standard  in  matters 
of  intellect  and  taste  is  sure  to  encounter  ;  five  pages  discuss 
certain  peculiar  characteristics  of  the  English  nation  ;  and  the 
rest  of  the  essay  (except  one  paragraph)  is  filled  with  examples 
of  what  an  English  Academy  might  do  for  English  literature. 
But  the  essay  on  Aurelius  is  a  continual  surprise.  Mr.  Arnold 
doubtless  knew  what  he  meant  to  say  in  his  paper  ;  yet  his  work 
looks  very  much  as  if  he  had  started  writing  with  only  a  vaguely 
defined  purpose, — -perhaps  to  review  Mr.  Long's  translation. 
The  consequence  is  a  disjointed  essay  which,  bold  as  the  criti- 
cism may  seem,  makes  most  unwarrantable  demands  upon 
one's  attention  and  ingenuity.  The  reader  sets  out  with  the 
broad  subject  Marcus  Aurelius ;  learns,  after  four  pages  of 
tossing  about,  that  Mr.  Arnold  intends  to  speak  of  Aurelius's 
code  of  morality  ;  is  then  rudely  carried  off  into  five  pages  on  Mr. 
Long's  translation  and  the  Emperor's  Greek  ;  meets  then  nine 
pages  on  the  life  of  Aurelius  and  cognate  questions  ;  and  is  at 
last  allowed  (in  eleven  pages  out  of  twenty-nine  that  he  has  read 
thus  far)  to  hear  what  moral  principles  this  remarkable  man 
jotted  down  in  his  Meditations.  The  close  (in  two  pages  more) 
makes  at  least  three  separate  remarks  cognate  with  the  general 
discussion  of  the  subject  rather  than  with  the  matter  that  has 
immediately  preceded.  Such  a  contrast  as  that  between  these 
essays  could  not  exist,  perhaps,  in  the  work  of  a  single  writer, 
except  as  a  result  of  difference  of  method  ;  and  no  candid 
reader  can  hesitate  for  a  moment,  one  would  think,  to  say 
which  method  is  preferable.  Even  Mr.  Arnold's  Homer  paper, 
eighty-five  pages  long,  is  easily  followed  through  its  every 
winding  ;  and  this,  quite  as  much  because  the  clew  to  the  maze 
has  been  securely  placed  in  the  reader's  hand  in  that  last 
sentence  of  the  first  paragraph,  as  for  any  other  reason. 


230  STYLE. 

285  b.  Important  exceptions — or,  rather,  apparent  exceptions 
— to  this  principle  will  be  met  under  the  heads  of  Excitation 
and  Persuasion.1 

1 

286.  Of  course,  anything  mechanical  in   this   use  of 

method  will  impair  a  writer's  success  ;  but  the  artist  must 
everywhere  "conceal  his  art;"  and  an  extreme  of  for- 
mality were  better,  one  would  think,  than  confusion  or 
failure.  The  chief  end  of  discourse  is  to  communicate 
thought ;  and  failure  in  this  particular  is,  therefore,  total 
failure.  Yet  how  many  worthy  books  are  not  read,  how 
many  excellent  addresses  are  not  listened  to,  simply 
because  their  method  is  so  outrageously  bad,  that  readers 
and  hearers  alike  refuse  the  labor  necessary  to  be  instructed 
by  them  !  The  assertion  often  made  that  a  strict  arrange- 
ment develops  only  formality,  stiffness  and  awkwardness, 
and  hampers  or  even  dwarfs  or  enfeebles  the  mind  of  the 
writer,  tying  him  down  to  mechanical  processes  when  he 
most  needs  to  be  free, — this  assertion  can  not  possibly  be 
true  in  all  cases — is  not  true  (as  many  teachers  will  testify) 
even  in  the  elementary  work  of  students.  An  orderly 
arrangement  may  guide  a  writer  without  affecting  his 
liberty ;  while  (as  has  been  said),  without  such  orderly 
arrangement,  clear  in  his  own  mind,  and  clearly  impressed 
upon  the  mind  of  his  reader,  he  may  fall  into  confusion, 
or  spend  his  well-meant  labor  in  vain. 

287.  To  facilitate  this  methodical  planning  and  con- 
struction of  discourse,  a  synopsis  of  the  whole  work, 
("skeleton"  it  is  often  called) ,  may  be  clearly  thought 
out  or  even  written  down,  before  the  actual  labor  of  com- 
position begins.  Even  a  systematic  notation  of  the 
several  divisions  of  the  work  by  figures  or  letters  may 
be  employed ;  though  this  notation  does  not  commonly 
appear  in  the  finished  work,  except  in  compositions 
intended  only  to  instruct  or  to  set  out  statistics  or 
similar  details.     Text-books   use  such  a  notation,  and 

1  Part  Second,  below. 


THE    PARTS   OF   A    COMPOSITION.  231 

properly ;  but  literary  products  (distinctively  so  called) 
commonly  do  not.  Of  course,  such  an  outline  must 
never  be  allowed  to  fetter  the  writer :  it  must  be  used, 
some  one  has  aptly  said,  only  as  the  mason  uses  his 
scaffolding,  as  a  means  to  an  end.  Points  may  be  omitted 
from  it ;  new  points  be  added  ;  in  fact,  any  liberty  may 
be  taken  with  it  that  tends  to  improve  the  composition. 
Sometimes,  a  writer  works  better  without  a  synopsis. 
The  subject,  in  its  broad,  general  outline,  is  clear  to  him, 
and  he  can  readily  follow  it  through  its  every  part.  In 
such  cases,  let  him  by  all  means  decline  a  "  scaffolding"  : 
only  let  him  be  sure  that  his  work,  when  finished,  is  as 
clear  to  his  reader  as  to  himself.  Of  course,  too,  if,  at 
any  point,  when  working  without  such  help,  he  becomes 
embarrassed,  he  can  jot  down  his  outline,  and  so  recover 
his  "bearings."  Freedom  in  one's  methods  of  work  is 
too  precious  to  be  lightly  bartered  away. 

288.  The  forms  that  the  several  parts  of  the  composition 
take  are  determined  mainly  by  the  subject-matter  :  the 
Proposition,  however,  needs  a  few  words  of  special 
remark.  Many  writers  state  it  definitely,  as  Matthew 
Arnold,  in  the  first  two  of  his  essays  quoted  above ;  or 
Lord  Macaulay,  who  begins  his  History,  ' '  I  purpose  to 
write  the  history  of  England  from  the  accession  of  King 
James  the  Second  down  to  a  time  which  is  within  the 
memory  of  men  still  living."  But  other  writers  (or  the 
same  writers  at  other  times)  merely  imply  it  in  a  sentence 
the  chief  purpose  of  which  is  different ;  as  Mr.  Arnold  in 
his  third  essay  named  above.  Sometimes  it  is  found  in 
an  opening  sentence  or  in  the  last  sentence  of  the  intro- 
duction ;  and  it  may  even  be  fully  expressed  in  the  title 
of  the  work.  To  insist  upon  any  one  form, — indeed,  not 
to  insist  upon  variety  in  this  as  in  other  respects, — is  a 
foolish  as  well  as  a  useless  dogmatism.  A  writer  can 
ill  afford  to  allow  his  openings  to  become  so  habitually 
alike  that  they  constitute  a  mannerism.     The  solitary 


232  STYLE. 

horseman  climbing  a  long  hill,  so  much  affected  by  a 
certain  writer,  has  provoked  for  him  the  soubriquet  of 
"the  one-horse  man."  The  danger  in  trusting  to  the 
title  to  announce  one's  proposition  lies  in  the  carelessness 
with  which  a  title  is  often  read.  Indeed,  the  common 
(but  most  mistaken)  practice  of  many  persons  is  to 
' '  skip  ' '  title,  preface,  and  all  kindred  matter. 

288  a.  The  Proposition  is  not  necessarily  a  judgment  the 
truth  or  falsity  of  which  is  to  be  enforced  on  the  reader.  In 
Argument,1  of  course,  such  a  judgment  stands  as  proposition  ; 
but  in  Narration,  in  Description,2  in  other  kinds  of  composition, 
the  Proposition  sets  forth  only  the  purpose  of  the  writer,  the 
circumstances  of  his  writing,  etc. 

2.  Canons. 

289.  The  Composition  as  a  whole,  no  matter  what  its 
subject,  obeys  four  general  rules.     They  are  ; — 

(1)  Unity.  Each  part  of  the  composition  must  be 
subservient  to  one  theme,  and  one  proposition  under 
that  theme. 

Everything  else  must  be  rigidly  excluded ;  or,  if  anything  out 
of  strict  unity  is  admitted,  its  insertion  must  be  justifiable  on 
sufficient  grounds.  Even  in  extended  works,  much  interesting 
matter  has  always  to  be  left  out,  lest  the  attention  be  unduly 
diverted  from  the  main  line  of  thought.  A  reasonable  quantity 
of  such  material,  however,  is  sometimes  inserted  in  foot-notes 
or  appendices  ;  but  even  here  the  limits  of  advisability  are  soon 
reached.  Speaking  of  De  Quincey,  confessedly  a  great  sinner 
in  this  respect,  Mr.  Minto  sums  up  the  case  most  cleverly; — 
"  Should  these  digressions,  obviously  breaches  of  strict  method, 
be  imitated  or  avoided?  The  experienced  writer  will  please 
himself,  and  consult  the  effect  that  he  intends  to  produce.  But 
if  he  digresses  after  the  model  of  De  Quincey,  he  may  rest 
assured  that  he  will  be  accused  of  affectation,  and  will  offend 
all  that  read  for  direct  information  concerning  the  subject  in 
hand." 

1 1  395,  below.  Hlzi*  ff,  below. 


THE    WHOLE    COMPOSITION — CANONS.  233 

(2)  Method.  The  development  of  the  subject  must 
follow  a  natural  (that  is,  the  logical)  order. 

This  canon  has  already  been  applied  in  the  section  on  the 
parts  of  a  composition,  but  it  is  equally  applicable  to  every 
other  detail.  As  no  little  force  is  gained  by  properly  distributing 
the  greater  divisions  of  the  whole  work,  so  a  like  force  is 
imparted  by  assigning  to  every  sub-division,  every  paragraph, 
every  sentence,  just  its  own  place,— the  place  determined  for  it 
by  the  nature  of  the  thought  expressed,  by  the  special  work 
which  that  particular  part  of  the  discourse  has  to  do,  and  by 
other  considerations,  to  be  mentioned  under  several  heads  of 
Part  Second,  below. 

(3)  Selection.  From  the  matter  found  to  be  relevant 
by  Canon  (i),  the  writer  must  choose  what  is  most  im- 
portant in  accordance  with  his  proposition  and  his  pur- 
pose in  writing. 

This  rule  is  most  binding,  of  course,  when  the  composition  is 
limited  in  extent  ;  but  it  lias  force  in  all  cases.  The  wider  the 
scope  of  the  author,  the  greater  is  the  mass  of  material  he 
collects,  and  the  greater  the  necessity  for  a  judicious  selection 
from  this  mass  of  just  those  things  which  he  especially  needs  to 
set  down.  Hence,  no  rule  of  Composition — not  even  the  law 
of  Unity— can  be  of  greater  importance  than  this  law  of  Selec- 
tion. A  wise  choice  of  material  ensures  the  success  of  a  book ; 
the  failure  to  make  this  choice  may  so  heavily  "handicap"  the 
work  as  to  leave  it  no  chance  in  the  race.  Such  unassorted  work 
is  sometimes  said  to  be  "padded."  De  Quincey's  failures  in 
this  particular  are  often  commented  on,  and  would  doubtless  have 
ruined  the  chances  of  works  less  remarkable  in  other  respects. 
And  here  again  can  the  value  of  a  commanding  use  of  method 
be  seen.  In  most  cases,  the  writer  will  choose  his  material 
wisely,  only  after  he  has  grasped  securely  and  held  before 
his  mind  ( like  a  visible  object  between  his  finger  and  his 
thumb)  the  whole  outline  of  his  composition.1     Vice  versa,  the 


'De  Quincey  is  a  conspicuous  exception.  The  law  of  Method  lie  practises 
most  successfully,  using  artistically  the  several  means  of  indicating  the  plan  of 
his  work,  apologizing  for  his  digressions,  giving  notice  ol  his  return  from 
them,  and  in  every  way  carrying  his  reader  along  with  him.  Yet  he  had  not 
learned  the  law  of  Unity— much  less  its  more  exacting  sister-rule  of  Selection. 


234  STYLE. 

secret  of  many  a  failure  in  Method  has  been  a  failure  in  Selec- 
tion ;  the  want  of  power  to  choose  wisely  serving,  as  a  rule,  to 
debar  the  writer  from  making  a  judicious  arrangement  of 
material. 

(4)  Completeness.  The  proposition  must  be  dis- 
cussed fully. 

Everything  essential,  everything  that  is  necessary  to  set  the 
subject  as  defined  in  the  proposition  completely  before  the 
reader,  must  be  included.  The  sin  of  incompleteness  is,  of 
course,  far  less  common  than  its  opposite  of  overcrowding  and 
irrelevancy  ;  but  its  effects  are  none  the  less  injurious  to  the 
work,  and  the  vice  itself,  therefore,  none  the  less  carefully  to  be 
guarded  against.1  A  judicious  Brevity  may  leave  one's  readers 
or  hearers  wishing  that  the  book,  the  sermon,  the  lecture  had 
been  lunger:  Incompleteness  leaves  the  mind  unsatisfied,  as 
a  piece  of  music  leaves  the  ear,  when  it  closes  upon  any  chord 
but  that  of  the  tonic.  One  cannot  help  feeling  that  the  writer 
has  pledged  himself  to  more  than  he  has  fulfilled,  or,  perhaps, 
has  attempted  more  than  he  was  able  to  accomplish. 

1  Appendix,  p.  335. 


FIGURES    OF   SPEECH.  235 

V. 
FICURES    OF    SPEECH.1 

290.  "A  Figure  of  Speech  is  a  deviation  from  the 
plain  and  ordinary  mode  of  speaking,  with  a  view  to 
greater  effect ; ' '  as,  That  lamp  lighted  in  Paradise, 
instead  of  Love ;  Saturn,  quiet  as  a  stone,  for  Saturn 
motionless.     So ; — 

The  vanward  clouds  of  evil  days. — To  sit  upon  an  Alp  as  on 
a  throne. —  Tragedy!  O,  sir,  nothing  of  the  hind! — For  thou, 
dear,  noble  Elizabeth,5  around  whose  ample  brow  I  fancy  a 
tiara  of  light  or  a  gleaming  aureola. 

"  A  casement 

.  .  .  diamonded  with  panes  of  quaint  de-.'ice 

Innumerable,  of  stains  and  splendid  dyes, 

As  are  the  tiger-moth 's  deep  damasked  icings." 

291.  It  is  a  question,  perhaps,  whether  the  many  "  artifices  of 
style  gradually  accumulated  "  by  rhetoricians  under  the  head 
of  Figures  of  Speech  admit  of  strict  classification.  "  Such  an 
accumulation,"  says  Mr.  Minto,4  "could  hardly  be  other  than 
heterogeneous;"  and  even  Prof.  Bain,5  who  attempts  only 
"the  most  common  figures,"  and  whose  division  is  based  on.  the 
' '  three  simple  modes  of  working ' '  to  which  ' '  all  our  intellectual 
powers  are  reducible,"  leaves  one  group  of  figures  unclassified. 
Some  points,  however,  have  been  made  towards  a  classifica- 
tion ;  and  by  combining  these  points,  all  the  most  important 
figures  can  be  grouped  under  certain  well-defined  heads. 

292.  (1)  "A  limited  number  of  figures  "are  deviations  from 
the  ordinary  modes  of  speech  in  the  "use  of  single  words."6 
Thus,  lamp,  clouds,  diamonded,  stains  and  damasked,  in  the 
examples  cited  above,7  all  contain  figures  of  this  sort.  They 
are  easily  distinguishable  both  from  the  formal  similitudes  there 
cited,  quiet  as  a  stone,  upon  an  Alp  as  on  a  throne,  and  from 
such  peculiar  sentence-structures  as  are  observable  in  the  fifth 
and  sixth  examples  of  that  paragraph.  Now,  for  these  single- 
word  figures  Mr.   Minto   has   proposed   to  reserve   the   name 

1 1  170,  above.  2  Bain,  Part  I.  3  De  Quineey's  sister,  long  dead. 

*  Manual,  p.  14.  6  Part  I.,  H  2,  40  ff.  «  Minto.  7§290. 


236  STYLE. 

trope— "at  present,  a  kind  of  general  synonym  for  a  figure  of 
speech,"  but  denned  by  the  ancients  in  a  narrower  sense,1  and 
undoubtedly  a  useful  word  when  properly  restricted  in  meaning. 
Prof.  Day,  twenty  years  before  Minto  published  his  Manual, 
used  the  term  in  the  same  meaning;  and  Aristotle's  word  meta- 
phor, as  opposed  to  simile,  included  just  about  the  same  group 
of  figures.2  The  advantage  of  the  plan  lies  in  its  giving  a  con- 
venient common  designation  to  a  small  class  of  figures  much 
used  by  certain  writers  who  do  not  affect  the  longer  similitudes; 
—by  De  Quincey,  for  instance,  who  (on  this  understanding)  is 
ricli  in  tropes,  as  opposed  to  Macaulay,  who  is  rich  in  similes,3 
and  to  Carlyle,  who  abounds  in  exclamations,  etc.  The  figures 
a  writer  uses  often  give  valuable  suggestions  as  to  the  character 
of  his  mind  and  the  sources  of  his  information  ;  and,  hence,  a 
convenient  nomenclature  must  be  of  great  service  in  rhetorical 
criticism. 

293.  (2f  Another  ancient  term  was  re-proposed  for  modern  use 
by  John  Ouincy  Adams,4— namely  the  Greek  word  schemata, 
or  (as  Mr.  Adams  boldly  wrote  it)  schemes.  Cicero  says  the 
word  denoted  figures  that  affect  the  sentence  or  the  whole 
discourse, — in  other  words,  figures  that  have  to  be  stated  at 
length.  Such  are  the  Simile,  the  Allegory,  etc. ,—  another  group 
that  it  is  convenient  to  be  able  to  name  in  a  single  word.  Mr. 
Adams's  word  schemes  is,  unfortunately,  too  closely  associated 
with  its  modern  meaning  to  permit  its  being  used  here  ;  but  the 
Greek  plural  answers  every  practical  purpose. 

294.  (3)  All  figures  of  speech  may  be  divided  into  two 
classes  ;5— (a)  Figures  of  Diction,  in  which  the  deviation  from 
the  ordinary  mode  of  speech  is  in  the  language  ;  {b)  Figures  of 
Thought,  in  which  it  is  in  the  form  of  the  sentence.  In  figures 
of  class  {a),  the  language  cannot  be  altered  without  destroying 
or  at  least  changing  the  figure  ;  in  class  {b),  so  long  as  the 
form  of  expression  is  retained,  the  figure  remains.  Thus,  the 
sentence  "  Out,  out,  hytzna/"6  contains  two  figures,— a  meta- 

1  Appendix,  p.  336. 

-Poetic,  xxi.  (See,  also,  Ritter's  note,  Buckley's  translation  of  Aristotle  in 
Bonn's  Classical  Library.!— Hence,  plainly,  the  modern  and  erroneous  use  of 
metaphorical  to  characterize  a  style  noticeable  for  its  habitual  use  of  such 
figures.    (Minto,  p.  15.) 

3  Minto,  ut  cit.  4  Lectures,  II.  xxx. 

5  Also  an  ancient  distinction,  and  recognized  by  Mr.  Adams,  ut  cit. 

6  Milton,  Samson  Agonistes,  748. 


FIGURES    OF   SPEECH.  237 

phor  in  hycena  (that  is,  Dalihi),  and  the  exclamation.  But, 
had  Milton  written,  Be  gone,  wild  beast!  there  would  still  have 
been  a  metaphor  in  ze/z'/rf  ^tf.^,1  though  it  would  have  been  a  dif- 
ferent metaphor  ;  whereas  the  sentence-form,  the  exclamation, 
would  have  remained  untouched.  The  phrase  figures  of 
thought  \%  valuable  also  as  a  term  of  reference  ;  for,  like  tropes 
and  schemata,  it  names  a  well-defined  group  of  figures  for  which 
it  is  a  convenient  designation.  In  characterizing  Carlyle  above,2 . 
it  was  said,  he  abounds  in  exclamations,  etc. :  it  may  now  be  said, 
he  abounds  in  figures  of  thought. 

295.  There  results,  then,  the  following  classification  ; — 

Figures  of  Speech. 

, ' « 

(1)  Of  Diction.  (2)  Of  Thought. 


(a)  Tropes,     (b)  Schemata. 

(1)  (a)  The  chief  Tropes  are, — 
(a)  Metaphor,  implied  comparison  ;  as,  The  barky  fingers 
of  the  elm ; 

(/?)  Metonymy,  the  substitution  of  an  accompaniment  for 
the  thing  it  accompanies ;  as,  The  shepherd,  with  his  home-spun 
lass ; 

(7)  Synecdoche,  a  similar  substitution  of  a  part  for  the 
whole,  or  vice  versa;  as,  Truth  forever  on  the  scaffold ;  wrong 
forever  on  the  throne  ; 

(<5)  Personification,  the  attributing  of  life  or  even  human 
feelings  and  purposes  to  an  inanimate  object;  as,  The  sleepless 
Ocean. 

(1)  (b)  The  chief  Schemata  are, — 
(a)  Simile,  comparison  in  terms,  i.  e.,  stated  at  length  ;  as, 
Such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of; 

(/3)  Allegory,  detailed  comparison  of  objects  that  but  re- 
motely resemble  each  other;  as,  the  comparing  of  lower  animals 
with  men  in  ^Esop's  Fables ; 

(7)  Antithesis,  the  explicit  contrasting  of  things  already 
opposed  in  meaning ;  as,  The  petition  originated,  not  with  the 
King,  not  with  the  parliament,  not  with  the  people,  but  with  a 
section  of  the  clergy  themselves  ;:i 

1  Such  word-phrases  are,  in  effect,  single  words,  and,  therefore,  tropes. 
From  the  present  point  of  view,  they  are  essentially  different  from  such 
phrases  as  quiet  as  a  tione,  01  gently,  like  dew  upon  the  grass. 

2;  3Froude.     (Cited  by  Bain.) 


238  STYLE. 

(rf)  Epigram,  "  conflict  or  contradiction  between  the  form 
of  the  language  and  the  meaning  really  conveyed ;  "  x  as  Bread 
is  bread,  (meaning,  it  is  unusually  high-priced)  ; 

(e)  Irony,  the  unmistakable  saying  of  what  is  not  meant,  in 
order  the  more  clearly  or  forcibly  to  say  what  is  intended;  as, 
A  pretty  plight ; 

(f)  Hyperbole,  exaggeration  designed  only  to  make  a 
deeper  impression  ;  as,  The  infinite  magnificence  of  heaven  ; 

(;/)  Euphemism,  the  softening  of  a  harsh  or  indelicate 
expression,  or  the  substitution  for  it  of  one  that  is  euphonious 
or  delicate ;  as,  When  Stephen  had  said  this,  ho.  fell  asleep. 
(2)  The  most  important  Figures  of  Thought  are, — 

(«)  Interrogation,  affirmation  or  denial  strengthened  by 
being  thrown  into  the  form  of  a  question;  as,  Is  thy  servant  a 
dog,  that  he  should  do  this  thing  ? 

(/?)  Exclamation,  a  mode  of  expression  dictated  by  "sud- 
den and  intense  emotion  /"  as,  How  wonderful  is  Death, — Death 
and  his  brother  Sleep  ! 

(7)  Apostrophe,  an  address  to  an  absent  or  imaginary 
auditor,  as  if  lie  -were  present ;  as,  Come,  pensive  nun,  devout 
and  pure ! 2 

296.  A  much  longer  list  might  easily  be  made ;  but,  as 
Prof.  A.  S.  Hill  has  well  said,  "The  figures  of  speech  are  the 
very  stuff "of  human  language  "  ;  and  many  so  called  figures  are 
not  in  any  strong  sense  deviations  from  the  ordinary  mode  of 
speech,  but  only  devices  of  the  sentence  or  the  paragraph, 
or  even  downright  violations  of  Syntax.  Asyndeton,  for 
example,  is  simply  an  omission  of  connectives;  Ellipsis,  the 
omission  of  other  easily  supplied  words — perhaps,  merely  for 
Brevity's  sake.  Anacolouthon,  the  failure  of  a  sentence  to 
follow  the  lead  of  its  beginning,  is  absolutely  a  vice — certainly 
a  vicious  mannerism — in  some  speakers,  however  rare  it 
may  be  in  writing.  To  include  everything  called  a  figure  by 
the  ancient  or  other  writers  who  have  emphasized  this  topic, 
would  be  only  to  collect  an  interminable  catalogue  of  mere 
names.  The  ambition  to  make  such  lists  was  the  fatal  disease  of 
mediaeval  rhetoricians,  as  well  as  of  some  more  recent  writers.3 

1  Bain.  -  Milton's  invocation  to  Melancholy. 

3  For  instance,  John  Sterling,  D.D.,  whose  System  of  Rhetoric,  (London,  1795, 
pp.  25)  is  simply  a  double  list  of  ninety-four  figures  of  speech,  first  in  English 
heroic  couplets,  with  English  examples  and  a  translation  of  the  technical 
terms  ;  secondly,  in  Latin  hexameters,  with  Latin  examples  and  the  derivation 
of  the  technical  terms  from  the  Greek. 


FIGURES    OF   SPEECH.  239 

The  division  here  proposed  has  at  least  one  merit.  It  avoids 
minute  sub-division — that  over-classification  which  rarely  or 
never  classifies,  but  only  bewilders. 

297.  In  illustrating  more  fully  the  several  figures  by  examples 
of  each,  the  order  of  the  classification  will  not  be  adhered  to  : 
the  student  will  better  understand  the  necessary  distinctions, 
and  at  the  same  time  find  the  classification  itself  more  clear,  if 
the  figures  that  can  be  effectively  compared  or  contrasted  are 
brought  together. 

298.  (1)  Two  figures  consist  in  the  comparison  of 
objects  that  closely  resemble  each  other ; — (a)  Meta- 
phor, an  implied  comparison  ;  if)  Simile,  a  comparison 
stated  at  length.  Thus,  De  Quincey  writing  of  his  sister, 
uses  a  metaphor, — Pillar  of  fire  that  didst  go  before  me 
to  guide  and  to  quicken.  Had  he  written,  Thou  who 
didst  go  before  me,  like  a  pillar  of  fire,  to  guide  and  to 
quicken,  he  would  have  used  a  simile.     So  ; — 

(a)  Pillar  of  darkness,  when  thy  countenance  was  turned 
away  to  God. — Anger  so  constantly  discharging  its  thunders. — 
Reason,  the  twinkling  lamp  of  wandering  life. 

"  With  head  uplift  above  the  wave,  and  eyes 

That  sparkling  blazed." 
"  To  you,  my  purse,  and  to  none  other  wight, 

Complain  I,  for  ye  be  my  lady  dear." 

(b)  They  had  glimmering  eyes,  red,  like  the  eyes  of  ferrets. 

— I  rose,  as  if  on  billows. — Hastily,  therefore,  I  kissed  the  lips 

that  I  should  kiss  no  more,  and  slunk,  like  a  guilty  thing,  witli 

stealthy  steps  from  the  room. 

"  He,  above  the  rest 
In  shape  and  gesture  proudly  eminent, 
Stood  like  a  tower." 

"  Fat  as  a  whale,  and  walked  as  a  swan." 

299.  (2)  Two  figures  consist  in  the  comparison  of  ob- 
jects that  but  remotely  resemble  each  other, — objects  that 
are  brought  into  comparison  by  the  figure ; — (a)  Alle- 
gory, a  sustained  comparison  ;  (b)  Personification,  the 
comparison  of  inanimate  with  animate  objects.     Thus  ; — 

(a)  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,  a  detailed  comparison  between 
the  Christian  life  and  a  pilgrimage  to  a  distant  country.1    Other 

1  Cf.  Hebrew-;,  xiii.  14. 


240 


STYLE. 


familiar  examples  are  Swift's   Gulliver  s    Travels,  Chaucer's 
House  of  Fame,  and  Spenser's  Faery  Quecne. 

(b)  "Such  an  act 

That  blurs  the  g  /  fli  e  and  blush  of  modesty, 
Calls  virtue  hypocrite,  takes  off  the  rose 
From  the  fair  forehead  of  an  innocent  love, 
And  sets  a  blister  there,  makes  marriage-vows 
As  false  as  dicers'  oaths  :  O,  such  a  deed 
As  from  the  body  of  contraction  plucks 
The  very  soul,  and  sweet  religion  makes 
A  rhapsody  of  words  ;  heaven's  face  doth  glow  : 
Yea,  this  solidity  and  compound  mass, 
//  7/7/  tristful  visage,  as  against  the  doom, 
!  Is  thought-sick  at  the  act." 

300.  (3)  Two  figures  consist  in  the  substitution  of  one 
thing  for  another ; — («)  Metonymy,  of  an  accompani- 
ment for  the  thing  it  accompanies  ;  (J?)  Synecdoche,  of 
a  part  for  the  whole  or  vice  versa.     Thus  ; — 

(a)  The  scarlet  hat  of  the  Cardinal,  the  silver  cross  of  the 
Legate,  were  no  more,  (meaning  cardinals  and  legates  were  no 
more).— Philip  heard  him  read  the  prophet  Esaias  — One  day 
nigh  weary  of  her  irksome  way,  (i.  e.,  her  journey). — In  secret 
shadow  far  from  all  men's  sight,  (/.  <?.,  in  a  shaded,  and  there- 
fore secret  place). — Blood  for  life;  a  sunshine  instead  of  a  bright 
light;  roses  (in  a  cheek)  as  a  sign  of  health,  or  blushes  as  a  sign 
of  modesty. 

(jb)  "  The  boy  had  fewer  summers,  but  his  heart 
Had  far  outgrown  his  years." 

"  I  can  not  see  what  flowers  are  at  my  feet, 

Nor  what  soft  incense  hangs  upon  the  boughs." 
"  And  with  rich  metal[i.  e.,  gold]  loaded  every  rift." 

"  And  kiss  thy  fair  large  ears,  my  gentle  Joy.1' 

"  O  that  this  too  too  solid  flesh  would  melt, 
Thaw,  and  resolve  itself  into  a  deu  ." 

To  spur  or  goad  for  to  drive;  steel  f<  >r  sword;  a  Daniel come  to 
judgment;  slothful  shade  ;  his  lazy  bed  ;  "the  holy  priest  that 
to  her  speaks  and  blesseth  her  with  happy  hands." 

301.  (4)  Five  figures  coincide  in  presenting  the  unex- 
pected; — (a)  Antithesis,  by  way  of  contrast;  (b)  Epi- 
gram, in  conflicting  or  contradictory  forms  of  expression  ; 


FIGURES   OF   SPEECH.  24.I 

(r)  Irony,  in  oppositeness of 'meaning ;  (d)  Hyperbole, 
in  self-evident  exaggeration;  (<?)  Euphemism  in  the 
avoidance  of  anything  unpleasant.     Thus  ; — 

(a)  Amidst  luxuries  in  all  things  else,  we  were  trained  to  a 

Spartan  simplicity  of  diet. 

"  There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough  hew  them  how  we  will." 

"  Our  remedies  oft  in  ourselves  do  lie, 
Which  we  ascribe  to  heaven.'" 

(b)  At  creation  three  kinds  of  people  were  made, — men, 
women,  and  Harvey s} — A  man  resolved  to  do  good  that  evil 
might  come. — He  went  to  his  imagination  for  his  facts,  and  to 
his  memory  for  his  tropes. —  Verbosity  is  cured  by  a  wide  vocab- 
ulary."1 

(c)  However,  for  this  once,  my  cynic  must  submit  to  be  told 
he  is  wrong.  Doubtless,  it  is  presumption  in  me  to  suggest 
that  his  sneers  can  ever  go  awry,  anymore  than  the  shafts  of 
Apollo.  But  still,  however  impossible  such  a  thing  is,  in  this 
one  case  it  happens  that  they  have.3 

(d)  "A  man  so  various  that  he  seemed  to  be 
Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  Epitome  : 
Stiff  in  opinions,  always  in  the  wrong, 
Was  everything  by  starts  and  nothing  long  ; 
But,  in  the  course  of  one  revolving  moon. 
Was  chemist,  fiddler,  statesman,  and  buffoon." 

"  Can  any  mortal  mixture  of  earth's  mould 
Breathe  such  divine  enchanting  ravishment  f  " 

Milton,  to  give  an  idea  of  Satan's  physical  prowess,  says, 

"  With  head  uplift  above  the  wave,  and  eyes 
That  sparkling  blazed,  his  other  parts  besides , 
Prone  on  the  flood,  extended  long  and  large, 
Lay  floating  many  a  rood." 

(e)  The  departed  or  the  deceased  for  the  dead  is  a  familiar 
euphemism.     Other  examples  are  ; — 

1  The  Harveys  meant  were  those  of  Lord  Bristol's  family  "  at  the  beginning 
of  the  last  century." — De  Quincey,  Autobiographic  Sketches,  chap,  ii.,  says  the 
epigram  was  ascribed  (he  knew  not  how  truly)  to  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Mon- 
tague. 

2 Cited  by  Bain,  who  restricts  the  meaning  of  epigram  as  is  done  here.  The 
word  once  meant  a  short,  pointed  poem  :  Bain  selects  the  play  upon  words  as 
"the  most  frequent  device  for  brevity  and  point  employed  in  such  composi- 
tions." 

6  De  Quincey,  A  Sequel  to  the  Confessions,  Part  I.— The  words  italicized  are 
especially  pointed. 
16 


242  STYLE. 

"  My  necessaries  are  embark'd  :  farewell : 
And,  sister,  as  the  winds  give  benefit 
And  convoy  is  assistant,  do  not  sleep, 
But  let  me  hear  from  you." 
"  Beware 
Of  entrance  to  a  quarrel,  but  being  in, 
Bear  't  that  the  opposed  may  beware  of  thee" 

302.  (5)  The  three  Figures  of  Thought  ;l — 

(a)  Doth  Job  fear  God  for  nought  ? — Can  a  man  weigh  off  and 
value  the  glories  of  dawn  against  the  darkness  of  hurricane  ? — 
Shall  he  expire,  and  unavenged  ? 

"  When  fades  at  length  our  lingering  day, 
Who  cares  what  pompous  tombstones  say?  " 

(b)  O  burden  of  solitude,  that  cleavest  to  man  through  every 
stage  of  his  being  ! — The  Parliament  of  living  men,  Lords  and 
Commons  united,  what  a  miserable  array  against  the  Upper 
and  [the]  Lower  House  composing  the  Parliament  of  Ghosts  ! 
— Methought  I  heard  a  voice  cry,  Sleep  no  more  ! 

(c)  "  Earth,  ocean,  air,  beloved  brotherhood  ! 
If  our  great  Mother  have  imbued  my  soul 
With  aught  of  natural  piety  to  feel 
Your  love,  and  recompense  the  boon  with  mine  ; 

then  forgive 

This  boast,  beloved  brethren,  and  withdraw 
No  portion  of  your  wonted  favor  now  !  " 

"  Life  of  Life  !  thy  lips  enkindle 
With  their  love  the  breath  between  them  .'  " 

"  My  daughter !  with  thy  name  this  song  began, — 
My  daughter  !  with  thy  name  thus  much  shall  end, — 
I  see  thee  not,  I  hear  thee  not, — but  none 
Can  be  so  wrapt  in  thee  ;  thou  art  the  friend 
To  whom  the  shadows  of  far  years  extend." 

Mighty  and  essential  solitude ! — that  wast,  and  art,  and  art  to 
be  ! — Hadst  thou  been  an  idiot,  my  sister,  not  the  less  I  must 
have  loved  thee,  having  2  that  capacious  heart  overflowing,  even 
as  mine  overflowed,  with  tenderness,  and  stung,  even  as  mine 
was  stung,  by  the  necessity  of  being  loved. — Cloud,  that  hast 
revealed  to  us  this  young  creature  and  her  blighted  hopes, 
close  up  again. — Othou  fervent  reformer, — whose  fatal  tread  he 
that  puts  his  ear  to  the  ground  may  hear  at  a  distance  coming 
onwards  upon  every  road, — if  too  surely  thou  wilt  work  for  me 
and  others  irreparable  wrong  and  suffering,  work  also  for  us  a 
little  good  ! 

J2§  294  ff,  above.  2  ?  145  (1)  (c),  above. 


FIGURES    OF   SPEECH.  243 

303.  The  following:  special  forms  of  Metonymy  (1)  and 
Synecdoche  (2)  are  noted  by  Prof.  Bain  ; — (1)  (a)  the  Sign,  or 
Symbol,  for  the  Thing  Signified,  (b)  the  Instrument  for  the 
Agent,  (c)  the  Container  for  the  Thing  Contained,  (d)  an  Effect 
for  a  Cause,  (e)  an  Author  for  his  Works  ;  (2)  (a)  the  Species  for 
the  Genus,  and  vice  versa,  (b)  the  Individual  for  the  Species 
(Antonomasia),  (c)  the  Concrete  for  the  Abstract,  (d)  the 
Material  for  the  Thing  Made,  (<?)  the  Passion  for  the  Object  that 
inspires  it,  (/)  the  Transferred  Epithet.  Examples  of  each 
form  have  already  been  given.1 

304  Comparison  is  figurative,  only  when  the  objects  compared 
are  different  in  kind.     Otherwise,  it  is  literal.     Thus, 

"  How  the  red  roses  flush  up  in  her  cheeks, 
And  the  pure  snow  with  goodly  vermeil  stain, 
Like  crimson  dyed  in  grain," — 

contains  both  a  figurative  and  a  literal  comparison.  Roses  for 
blushes  is  figurative ;  but  vermeil  stain  like  crimson  dyed  in 
grain  simply  notes  the  particular  shade  of  red  the  bride  blushed 
— namely,  as  pure  a  vermillion  as  results  from  dyeing  with 
kermes.2 

305.  Rhetoricians  lay  down  a  number  of  rules  for  the 
use  of  Figures  ;  but  the  following  general  principles  seem 
to  cover  the  ground  ; — 

(1)  All  Figures  should  be  in  keeping  with  both  the 
occasion  and  the  feelings  natural  to  a  speaker  on  that 
occasion.  They  must  seem  to  be  spontaneous,  even  if 
they  are  not.  Any  appearance  of  their  having*  been 
hunted — having  been  gone  after  through  the  lanes  and 
hedges  of  thought — of  their  having  been  compelled  to 
come  in — is  fatal  to  their  efficiency.  Thus,  an  orator, 
fired  with  his  topic,  may  properly  write ; — 

"Have  I  any  unkind  feeling  towards  these  poor  people? 
No  more  than  I  have  to  a  sick  friend  who  implores  me  to  give 
him  a  glass  of  iced  water  which  the  physician  has  forbidden. 
No  more  than  a  humane  collector  in  India  has  to  those  poor 
peasants  who  in  a  season  of  scarcity  crowd  round  the  granaries 
and  beg  with  tears  and  piteous  gestures  that  the  doors  may  be 
opened  and  the  rice  distributed.     I  would  not  give  the  draught 

1 1  300,  above.  2  See  G.  P.  Marsh,  Lectures,  i.  66. 


244  STYLE. 

of  water,  because  I  know  that  it  would  be  poison.  I  would  not 
give  up  the  keys  of  the  granary,  because  I  know  that,  by  doing 
so,  I  should  turn  a  scarcity  into  a  famine.  And  in  the  same 
way  I  would  not  yield  to  the  importunity  of  multitudes  who, 
exasperated  by  suffering  and  blinded  by  ignorance,  demand 
with  wild  vehemence  the  liberty  to  destroy  themselves." 
A  cooler,  more  dispassionate  reasoner  would  probably 
have  said, — 

It  is  not,  Mr.  Speaker,  that  I  have  any  unkind  feeling  towards 
these  poor  people  :  I  simply  can  not  yield  to  their  importunity, 
suffering  and  ignorant  as  they  are,  and  give  them  the  means  to 
their  own  destruction. 

So,  compare  the  stilted  lines  (a)  with  the  following 
"strains  like  the  breath  of  the  morning  which  has  swept 
over  flowery  meads  "  (6)  ; l — 

(a)  "Was  this  the  face  that  launch'd  a  thousand  ships, 
And  burnt  the  topless  tow'rs  of  Ilium  ? 
Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss. 

Her  lips  suck  forth  my  soul !  See,  where  it  flies. 

Come,  Helen,  come,  give  me  my  soul  again. 

Here  will  I  dwell,  for  Heav'n  is  in  these  lips, 

And  all  is  dross  that  is  not  Helena. 

I  will  be  Paris,  and,  for  love  of  thee, 

Instead  of  Troy  shall  Wittenberg  be  sack'd  ; 

And  I  will  combat  with  weak  Menelaus, 

And  wear  thy  colours  on  my  plumed  crest ; 

Yea  I  will  wound  Achilles  in  the  heel, 

And  then  return  to  Helen  for  a  kiss. 

Oh  !  thou  art  fairer  than  the  evening  air, 

Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars  :' ' 2— 
(b)  "Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  love, 

And  we  will  all  the  pleasures  prove, 

That  hill  and  valley,  grove  and  field, 

And  all  the  craggy  mountains  yield. 

There  will  we  sit  upon  the  rocks, 

And  see  the  shepherds  feed  their  flocks 

By  shallow  rivers,  to  whose  falls 

Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals."3 

1  Alfred  H.  Welsh,  Development  of  English  Literature  and  Language. 

2  Marlowe,  Fanstus.  3  Marlowe,  The  Passionate  Shepherd  to  his  Love. 


FIGURES    OF   SPEECH.  245 

(2)  Figures  should  not  be  too  numerous  in  any  compo- 
sition, nor  should  the  same  figure  be  too  often  repeated. 
In  the  passage  just  cited  from  Marlowe's  Faustus,  the 
figurative  applications  of  Helen's  share  in  causing  the 
Trojan  war  are  numerous  and  unvaried  ad  nauseam. 

(3)  All  figures  should  both  be  clear  in  themselves  and 
promote  clearness  in  their  context.  To  this  latter  end, 
they  should  be  clearer  than  literal  statement.  Thus,  the 
literal  statement,  The  heat  of  the  oven  was  1400  ° 
Fahrenheit,  would  have  been  far  less  clear  to  the 
average  reader  than  the  hyperbole,  The  furnace  was 
heated  ' '  one  seven  times  more  than  it  was  wont  to  be 
heated,"  indefinite  as  this  statement  is.  So,  it  may  be 
questioned  what  is  meant  by 

"The  noble  sister  of  Poplicola, 
The  moon  of  Rome  :  " 

certainly  one  may  doubt  whether  the  figure  is  as  clear  as 
a  literal  statement  would  have  been.1  But  no  one  need 
ask  what  Homer  meant  by 

' '  Soft  as  the  fleeces  of  descending-  snow, ' ' 

or  Tennyson  by 

"  Him,  like  the  working  bee  in  blossom  dust, 
Blanched  with  his  mill,  they  found." 

(4)  The  accumulation  in  the  same  context  of  incon- 
gruous figures,  the  combining  of  literal  and  figurative 
language,  and  the  "mixing"  of  figures — that  is,  the 
drawing  of  the  parts  of  a  single  figure  from  different 
sources — are  alike  forbidden.2  All  these  errors  may  be 
noted  in  the  following  short  passage  ; — 

"Pillar  of  fire  that  didst  go  before  me  to  guide  and  to 
quicken, — pillar  of  darkness,  when  thy  countenance  was  turned 

1  Bain  says  it  is  admissible  on  the  ground  that  "  the  absence  of  intellectual 
similarity  is  consistent  with  emotional  keeping"  ;  but  he  does  not  translate  it. 

2  The  mixed  Metaphor  is  especially  condemned  by  rhetoricians, — probably, 
because  the  Metaphor  is  so  striking  a  figure. 


246  STYLE. 

away  to  God,  that  didst  too  truly  shed  the  shadow  of  death  over 
my  young  heart,— in  what  scales  should  I  weigh  thee  ?  Was 
the  blessing  greater  from  thy  heavenly  presence,  or  the  blight 
which  followed  thy  departure?  Can  a  man  weigh  off  and  value 
the  glories  of  dawn  against  the  darkness  of  hurricane? " 1 

Here  are  at  least  fourteen  figures — the  words  in  italics,  the 
Apostrophe  (sustained  from  "Pillar  of  fire"  to  "departure"), 
the  Euphemism  in  "turned  away  to  God,"  and  the  three  Inter- 
rogations ; — surely  a  goodly  number,  even  were  they  more  con- 
gruous in  thought.  But  they  come  from  so  many  and  so  different 
sources,  that  the  mind  can  scarcely  follow  the  rapid  changes  of 
imagery.  In  the  second  place,  the  allusion  to  the  miraculous 
leading  and  lighting  of  the  children  of  Israel  on  their  way 
from  Egypt2  is  suddenly  changed  into  a  reference  to  the  shining 
of  the  planets  by  reflected  light,  and  this  immediately  made  to 
do  duty  as  a  euphemism  for  his  sister's  death.3  Finally,  "the 
blessing  from  thy  heavenly  presence, "  a  literal  statement  except 
for  the  adjective,  is  badly  contrasted  with  "the  blight  which 
followed  thy  departure  " — a  strong  figure. 

"So,  then,  one  chapter  in  my  life  had  been  finished.  Already, 
before  the  completion  of  my  sixth  year,  this  first  chapter  had 
run  its  circle,  had  rendered  up  its  music  to  the  final  chord — 
might  seem  even,  like  ripe  fruit  from  a  tree,  to  have  detached 
itself  forever  from  all  the  rest  of  the  arras  that  was  shaping 
itself  within  my  loom  of  life."  * 

1  De  Quincey,  Sequel  to  the  Confessions,  Part  I. 

2  Exodus  xiii.  21,  22 ;  xiv.  19,  20. — De  Quincey's  figure  varies  the  account,  but 
not  so  seriously  as  to  impair  its  fidelity  or  to  obscure  the  reference. 

3  A  euphemism,  be  it  noted,  singularly  beautiful  in  itself,  and  one  that  v/ould 
have  been  a  rare  ornament,  had  it  been  properly  employed. 

4  De  Quincey. 


THE   QUALITIES   OF   STYLE.  247 


(C)   THE  QUALITIES   OF   STYLE. 

DEFINITION    AND    SUB-DIVISIONS. 

306.  The  properties  of  language  denoted  by  the  phrase 
Qualities  of  Style1  are  easily  distinguished  from  both  the 
grammatical  and  the  mechanical  properties,  and  yet  they 
are  not  easily  defined.  The  meaning  of  the  qualifying 
adjective  subtler,  used  above,1  will  be  best  reached,  per- 
haps, by  remembering  the  distinction  between  the  out- 
ward and  bodily  and  the  inward  and  spiritual  form  of 
a  composition.2  The  grammatical  and  the  mechanical 
properties  of  language  belong  to  the  one,  the  subtler 
properties  to  the  other.  The  former  lie  on  the  surface 
of  discourse,  and  are  sensible  to  the  eye  or  the  touch  ; 
the  latter  lie  deeper,  and  must  be  appreciated  by  the 
sensibilities,  rather  than  detected  by  the  senses.  The 
former  can  be  localized  ;  the  latter  belong  to  the  com- 
position as  a  whole.  In  a  word,  the  qualities  of  style 
appeal  to  and  stimulate  the  higher  intellectual  life  in 
man,  excite  in  him  intenser  and  more  exalted  feelings, 
and  most  powerfully  influence  his  will.  The  student  will 
have  no  greater  difficulty,  however,  in  coming  to  know 
these  qualities  than  he  has  had  in  learning  to  recognize 
the  more  superficial  and,  therefore,  the  more  patent 
properties  of  language  exhibited  under  the  heads  of 
Grammatical  Purity  and  the  Elements  of  Style. 

307.  The  Qualities  of  Style  admit  of  distribution 
under  two  heads  ;— I.  The  Subjective  Qualities,  II.  The 
Objective  Qualities.  Language,  considered  as  the  me- 
dium of  communication,  may  be  viewed  in  its  relation 
either  to  the  speaker  or  to  the  person  addressed  ;  that  is, 
either  subjectively  or  objectively.  Hence,  the  two  classes 
of  Qualities  of  Style.3 

x\  77.  abovr.  2js  j-^  above.  3Day,  Art  of  Discourse,  §  244. 


248  STYLE. 


THE    SUBJECTIVE    QUALITIES. 

308.  The  Subjective  Qualities  of  Style  are(i)  Signifi- 
cance, (2)   Continuousncss,  (3)  Naturalness. 

(1)  Significance. 

309.  Significance  implies  two  things; — (a)  "that  the 
speaker  have  some  thought  to  communicate  "  ;  (b)  "  that 
the  words  employed  actually  express  some  meaning." 
"Discourse  in  which  the  speaker  does  not  design  to 
communicate  any  thought"  is  Spurious  Oratory ;  that 
in  which  he  uses  "the  forms  of  speech,"  indeed,  but 
"with  no  thought  or  sentiment  expressed  in  them,"  is 
The  Nonsensical.     Thus  ; — 

Launcelot  Gobbe's  talk  with  his  blind  father  is  at  first  inten- 
tionally meaningless:  "I  will  try  confusions  with  him,"  says 
Launcelot.1 

"  Gob.  Master  young  gentleman,  I  pray  you,  which  is  the  way 
to  master  Jew's? 

"  Laun.  Turn  up  on  your  right  hand  at  the  next  turning,  but, 
at  the  next  turning  of  all,  on  your  left ;  marry  at  the  very  next 
turning,  turn  of  no  hand,  but  turn  down  indirectly  to  the  Jew's 
house. 

"  Gob.  By  God's  sonties,  'twill  be  a  hard  way  to  hit.  Can 
you  tell  me  whether  one  Launcelot,  that  dwells  with  him,  dwell 
with  him  or  no. 

"Laun.  Ergo,  Master  Launcelot.  Talk  not  of  Master  Laun- 
celot, father ;  for  the  young  gentleman,  according  to  Fates  and 
Destinies  and  such  odd  sayings,  the  Sisters  Three  and  such 
branches  of  learning,  is  indeed  deceased,  or,  as  you  would  say 
in  plain  terms,  gone  to  heaven."2 
The  Nonsensical,  too,  is  exemplified  by  Shakspere ; — 3 

1  Tlie  Merchant  of  Venice,  II.  ii.  38. 

sSuch  "  talk  for  talk's  sake  "  does  not  always  have  even  Launcelot's  excuse, 
an  idle  wish  to  tease  :  it  has  been  used  to  retard  legislation,  or  to  wear  out 
opponents  in  debate. 

a Love's  Labours  Lost,  iv.  ii.  51. 


SIGNIFICANCE.  249 

"  Hoi.  Sir  Nathaniel,  will  you  hear  an  extemporal  epitaph  on 
the  death  of  the  deer?  And,  to  humour  the  ignorant,  call  I 
the  deer  the  princess  killed  a  pricket. 

"  Nath.  Perge,  good  Master  Holofernes,  perge  ;  so  it  shall 
please  you  to  abrogate  scurrility. 

"Ho/.  I  will  something  affect  the  letter,  for  it  argues 
facility. 

"The  preyful  princess  pierced  and  prick'd  a  pretty  pleasing  pricket ; 
Some  say  a  sore  ;  but  not  a  sore,  till  now  made  sore  with  shooting. 
The  dogs  did  yell :  put  l  to  sore,  then  sorel  jumps  from  thicket; 
Or  pricket  sore,  or  else  sorel ;  the  people  fall  a  hooting. 
If  sore  be  sore,  then  l  to  sore  makes  fifty  sores  one  sorel. 
Of  one  sore  I  an  hundred  make  by  adding  but  one  more  l." 

310.  The  Humorous1  sometimes  approaches  the  non- 
sensical, but  never  reaches  it.     Thus  ; — 

"  Launce.  Nay,  'twill  be  this  hour  ere  I  have  done  weeping; 
all  the  kind  of  the  Launces  have  this  very  fault.  I  have  received 
my  proportion,  like  the  prodigious  son,  and  am  going  with  Sir 
Proteus  to  the  Imperial's  court.  I  think  Crab  my  dog  be  the 
sourest-natured  dog  that  lives  :  my  mother  weeping,  my  father 
wailing,  my  sister  crying,  our  maid  howling,  our  cat  wringing 
her  hands,  and  all  our  house  in  a  great  perplexity,  yet  did  not 
this  cruel-hearted  cur  shed  one  tear :  he  is  a  stone,  a  very 
pebble  stone,  and  has  no  more  pity  in  him  than  a  dog :  a  Jew 
would  have  wept  to  have  seen  our  parting  ;  why,  my  grandam, 
having  no  eyes,  look  you,  wept  herself  blind  at  my  parting. 
Nay,  I'll  show  you  the  manner  of  it.  This  shoe  is  my-  father  : 
no,,  this  left  shoe  is  my  father  :  no,  no,  this  left  shoe  is  my 
mother ;  nay  that  cannot  be  so  neither  :  yes,  it  is  so,  it  is  so,  it 
hath  the  worser  sole.  Now,  sir,  this  staff  is  my  sister,  for,  look 
you,  she  is  as  white  as  a  lily  and  as  small  as  a  wand  :  this  hat  is 
Nan,  our  maid  :  I  am  the  dog  :  no,  the  dog  is  himself,  and  I  am 
the  dog — Oh!  the  dog  is  me,  and  I  am  myself:  ay,  so,  so. 
Now  come  I  to  my  father  ;  Father,  your  blessing:  now  should 
not  the.shoe  speak  a  word  for  weeping :  now  should  I  kiss  my 
father  ;  well,  he  weeps  on.  Now  come  I  to  my  mother :  O  that 
she  could  speak  now  like  a  wood  woman  !  Well  I  kiss  her  ; 
why  there  'tis  ;  here's  my  mother's  breath  up  and  down.  Now 
come  I  to  my  sister  ;  mark  the  moan  she  makes.     Now  the  dog 

1§33i,  below. 


250  STYLE. 

all  this  while  sheds  not  a  tear  nor  speaks  a  word  ;  but  see  how 
I  lay  the  dust  with  my  tears." x 

(2)    CONTINUOUSNESS. 

311.  Continuousness  of  style  is  its  quality  of  being 
connected.  It  implies  (a)  that  the  thought  expressed  be 
set  in  its  proper  relations  ;  (5)  that  it  move  regularly  for- 
ward from  the  beginning,  step  by  step,  to  the  end. 
Much  has  necessarily  been  said  on  this  subject  above, — 
under  the  Sentence,  the  Paragraph,  the  Whole  Com- 
position. An  additional  remark  or  two  will  answer  here, 
(a)  Brokenness  of  style— Sententiousness,  it  is  often 
called — ought  to  denote  intensity  of  feeling — feeling  too 
deep  for  utterance  or  too  abrupt  and  broken  for  a  flow 
of  words.  Affected  sententiousness  is  not  only  weak, 
but  generally  betrays  its  artificial  character.  (&)  As  an 
example  of  "talking  in  a  circle,"  may  be  mentioned  a 
funeral  prayer  twenty  minutes  long,  yet  revolving  about 
the  single  petition  that  God  would  bless  the  afflicted 
family. 

(3)  Naturalness. 

312.  Naturalness  of  style  is  its  representing  the  peculiar 
mode  of  thought  and  manner  of  expression  of  the  par- 
ticular writer.  Every  man  is  in  some  respects  sui  generis 
— incapable  of  classification  ;  and,  hence,  though  a  writer 
should  avoid  all  mannerisms  and  affectations,  though  he 
should  never  aim  at  being  individual,  he  should  allow 
himself  only  his  own  style.  '  The  speaker's  own  manner 
best  becomes  him,"2  "  Le  style  c  est  I'homme,"3  "A 
simple  and  natural  style,  the  eloquence  of  nature, 
enchants  us  for  the  reason  that  while  we  are  looking  for 

1  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  II.  iii.  i. — The  grains  of  "salt"  that 
keep  such  buffoonery  "sweet"  are  the  scattered  thoughts  suggested  by  the 
passage.  Absurdly  as  these  are  turned  from  their  true  and  usual  associations, 
they  are  still  there,  and  start  the  mind  in  several  directions. 

2  Day,  §301.  SBuffon. 


NATURALNESS.  25 1 

an  author  we  find  a  man."1  "The  speaker  must  ever 
be  himself,"  2 — are  but  varying  expressions  of  this  truth. 
On  the  other  hand,  imitation  of  another,  whether  in  mode 
of  thought  or  in  manner  of  expression,  commonly  ends 
in  the  copying  of  all  his  faults,  without  attaining  any  of 
his  excellences.  A  writer's  mannerisms  are  easily  mim- 
icked, may  even  be  burlesqued — that  is,  be  grossly 
exaggerated  :  his  individuality  is  inimitable.  The  many 
unprofessed  imitators  of  Longfellow  or  Tennyson  or 
Browning,  as  well  as  the  confessed  imitations  of  Excelsior, 
or  Break,  break,  break,  or  How  They  Brought  the  Good 
News  from  Ghent  to  Aix,  exemplify  this  truth. 

313.  Naturalness  of  style  is  affected  by  "the  subject 
and  the  occasion  of  the  discourse."  These  influence  the 
mind  of  the  writer,  and  ' '  leave  their  impressions  on  his 
style,  in  rendering  it  more  earnest  and  elevated,  more 
stately  and  dignified,  or  more  light  and  familiar. ' '  Thus, 
compare  the  following  descriptions  of  a  sun  rise  ; — 

"The  saffron  morn,  with  early  blushes  spread, 
Now  rose  refulgent  from  Tithonus'  bed, 
With  new-born  day  to  gladden  mortal  sight, 
And  gild  the  course  of  heaven  with  sacred  light."4 

"The  sun  had  long  since  in  the  lap 
Of  Thetis  taken  out  his  nap  ; 
And,  like  a  lobster  boiled,  the  morn 
From  black  to  red  began  to  turn."5 

Burke,  a  friend  of  America,  describes  the  rapid  growth  of  the 
colonies  by  saying  that,  while  England  talks  of  "the  mode  of 
governing  two  millions  "  of  Americans,  "millions  more  "  spring 
up  to  be  managed:  Dr.  Johnson,  an  enemy  to  all  "whigs," 
says  the  Americans  "  multiply  with  the  fecundity  of  their  own 
rattlesnakes." 

1  Pascal,  translated  by  Shedcl,  Literary  Essays,  p.  81. 

2  Gabriel  Harvey,  an  English  rhetorician  in  tiie  reign  of  Elizabeth — the  col- 
lege-mate of  Spenser,  and  the  friend  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  His  book  is 
extremely  rare,  and  is  quoted  here  from  Morley's  First  Sketch  of  English  Liter- 
ature. 

8  Day,  ?  305. — The  examples,  too,  are  cited  by  Day. 

4  Homer.  '■>  Butler's  Hudibras. 


252  STYLE. 


II. 

THE    OBJECTIVE    QUALITIES. 

314.  Considered  in  their  relation  to  the  person 
addressed,  the  qualities  of  style  are,  1.  The  Intellectual 
Qualities,  2.  The  Emotional  Qualities,  3.  The  ^Esthetic 
Qualities.  Class  1  includes  (1)  Simplicity,  as  opposed 
to  Abstruseness ;  (2)  Clearness,  as  opposed  to  Confu- 
sion} Clearness  admits  of  sub-division  into  {a)  General 
Clearness,  or  Perspicuity ;  (6)  Minute  Clearness,  or 
Precision}  Class  2  contains  (1)  Force,  (2)  Pathos,  (3) 
The  Ludicrous ;  Class  3,  (1)  Melody,  (2)  Harmony,  (3) 
Variety,  (4)  Elegance. 

1.  The  Intellectual  Qualities. 
(1)  Simplicity. 

315.  Simplicity  is  the  quality  of  being  readily  compre- 
hended, of  being  easily  grasped  by  the  mind  and  under- 
stood completely.  The  term  denotes  more  than  Clear- 
ness, the  quality  of  being  readily  apprehended ;  for  com- 
prehension implies  that  the  thing  understood  is  grasped 
in  its  entirety,  whereas  apprehension  implies  intelligibility 
only  in  part.     Thus  ; — 

The  meaning  of  the  word  electricity  can  be  easily  apprehended ; 
but  no  one,  perhaps,  would  claim  that  he  comprehends  the 
term.  Even  such  "everyday  "  words  as  earth,  air,  fire,  water, 
man,  zvoman,  child,  father,  mother,  uncle,  aunt,  mean  a  vast 
deal  more  to  some  minds  than  to  others  ;  while  certain  scien- 
tific terms,  readily  intelligible  in  a  general  way,  are  completely 
understood  only  by  special  students  of  the  sciences  to  which 
they  belong.  For  example,  such  words  as  conscious,  aware, 
perceive,  conceive,  think,  remember,  imagine,  are  separated  by 
well-ascertained  boundaries,  of  which  a  speaker  untaught  in 

iBain.  2Minto. 


SIMPLICITY.  253 

Mental  Science  knows  nothing.  So,  of  the  following  lines,  the 
first  four  are,  perhaps,  universally  intelligible  ;  the  last  four 
speak  to  far  fewer  minds  ; — 

"  I  saw  from  the  beach,  when  the  morning  was  shining, 

A  bark  o'er  the  water  move  gloriously  on  ; 
I  came  when  the  sun  o'er  that  beach  was  declining — 

The  bark  was  still  there,  but  the  waters  were  gone. 
And  such  is  the  fate  of  our  life's  early  promise, 

So  passing  the  spring-tide  of  joy  we  have  known  ; 
Each  wave  that  we  danced  on  at  morning  ebbs  from  us, 

And  leaves  us  at  eve  on  the  bleak  shore  alone." 

316.  Hence,  "  Simplicity  and  Abstruseness  (its  oppo- 
site) are  relative  terms,"  and  "want  of  simplicity  is  a 
fault  only  in  relation  to  the  persons  addressed. ' '  To  be 
sure,  ' '  whatever  is  hard  to  understand  is  not  simple,  is 
abstruse,  recondite ; ' '  but  ' '  what  is  hard  for  one  man 
may  be  easy  for  another, " 1  and,  for  this  reason,  the 
degree  of  simplicity  required  in  any  writing  depends  en- 
tirely upon  the  readers  that  may  reasonably  be  expected 
for  it.  "A  writer  addressing  himself  purposely  to  a 
learned  audience  only  wastes  his  strength  by  beating 
about  the  bush  for  language  universally  familiar."  On 
the  other  hand,  the  difficulty  in  speaking  to  children  lies 
in  the  essential  abstruseness  (to  them)  of  many  subjects 
about  which  one  may  wish  to  inform  them  or  they  may 
wish  to  learn. 

317.  In  some  part,  however,  the  attainment  of  Sim- 
plicity depends  on  the  kind  of  words  employed  or  the 
construction  of  the  sentence,  the  paragraph,  or  even  the 
whole  composition.  Hence,  many  principles  of  Style 
already  laid  down  apply  here ;  and  the  following  may  be 
added ; — 

(1)  Familiar  terms — such  as  "  represent  common  and  familiar 
objects  and  actions" — are  simpler  than  "rare  or  remote" 
terms.3  Thus,  so  far  as  words  are  concerned,  the  last  example 
cited  in  \  315  is  simplicity  itself:  its  last  four  lines  are  less 
simple  than  the  first  four  only  because  the  total  thought  pre- 
sented is  less  easily  grasped. 

1  Minto,  p.  19.  s  Minto,  p.  20.      (See,  also,  \  129,  above.)  3  Bain. 


254  STYLE. 

(2)  Particular  terms  are  simpler  than  generals ;  especially, 
the  names  of  persons,  than  the  names  of  classes.  Thus, 
Chaucer's  account  of  the  Prioress,  Madame  Eglantyne,  a  fine 
lady  of  his  day,  says,  not  that  she  avoided  profanity,  but  that 

"  Her  greatest  oath  was  but  by  Saint  Loy  ;  "l 

not  that  she  had  all  the  good  breeding  of  her  time,  but  that 

"At  mete  2  well  ytaught  was  she  withal, 
She  let  110  morsel  from  her  lippes  fall, 
Nor  wet  her  fingers  in  her  sauce  deep. 
Well  could  she  carry  a  morsel,  and  well  keep 
That  no  drope  ne  fell  upon  her  breast  ;  " 

not  that  she  had  a  tender  conscience,  but  that 

"  She  was  so  charitable,  and  so  pitous,3 
She  wolde4  weep  ff  that  she  saw  a  mouse 
Caught  in  a  trap,  if  it  were  dead  or  bledde;"5 

not  that  she  was  foolishly  fond  of  her  pets,  but  that 

"  Of  smalle  houndes  had  she,  that  she  fed 
With  roasted  flesh  and  milk  and  wastel  bread.6 
But  sore  wepte  she  if  one  of  them  were  dead, 
Or  if  men  smote  it  with  a  yerde  smarte."  7 

So  Thackeray,  by  way  of  assigning  Irving  and  Macaulay  their 
places  in  modern  literature,  calls  them  "  the  Goldsmith  and  the 
Gibbon  of  our  time."  Once  more,  in  Chaucer's  Nonne  Prestes 
Tale,  when  Pertelote  makes  game  of  Chaunteclere  for  doing 
"force  of  dremes  "—setting  store  on  his  dreams — Chaunteclere 
gives  her  instances  in  which  dreams  have  come  true,  and 
opposes  these  most  confidently  to  Cato's  opinion  that  dreams 
mean  nothing. 


'.-.- 


(2)  Clearness. 

318.  Clearness,  the  quality  of  being  readily  appre- 
hended, is  either  general  or  minute.  General  Clearness 
has  aptly  been  called  Perspicuity  ;  Minute  Clearness, 
Precision.8  The  opposite  of  Clearness  is  Confusion, 
Ambiguity,  or  Uncertain  Reference  ;  and  hence,  Clear- 

1  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales,  120.  2  Meat — her  meals. 

3  Pitiful.  *  Would.  5  Bleeding. 

6  Cake-bread,  made  of  the  whitest  flour.        7  Struck  it  sharply  with  a  stick. 

8  The  terms  are  not  always  so  distinguished.  Most  writers  use  only  a  single 
term,  Perspicuity,  to  express  all  that  is  here  intended  by  Simplicity,  Perspicuity 
and  Precision.  Blair  defined  Precision  as  "the  highest  part"  of  Perspicuity; 
but  Bain  and  Minto,  whose  views  are  here  set  forth,  seem  more  logical. 


CLEARNESS.  255 

ness  is  not  a  relative  term.  "Ambiguous  language  may 
mislead  learned  and  unlearned  alike.  Confused  expres- 
sion is  not  justifiable  under  any  circumstances,  unless, 
indeed,  it1  is  the  writer's  deliberate  purpose  to  mislead. 
The  educated  reader  will  guess  the  meaning  sooner  than 
the  uneducated;  but  neither  should  be  burdened  with 
the  effort  of  guessing."2  For  this  reason,  Clearness 
is  a  quality  "of  obligation."  Unlike  Simplicity,  it  is 
always  attainable,  and,  for  this  reason,  may  always  be 
insisted  upon.  Discourse  must  be  intelligible,  and  intel- 
ligible in  only  one  sense  ;  not  only  so  clear  that  it  may  be 
understood,  but  so  clear  that  it  must  be  understood  by 
every  one  of  sound  mind,— -so  clear  that  it  cannot  be 
misunderstood  by  any  rational  interpreter. 

319.  In  all  cases,  Clearness  in  expression  is  impossible, 
unless  the  writer  is  capable  of  thinking  clearly.  What- 
ever the  character  of  the  subject,  simple  or  abstruse,  a 
writer  who  can  not  think  clearly  easily  grows  confused, 
and  his  style  ambiguous  :  in  a  difficult  subject  he  is  sure 
to  be  defeated.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  not  true,  as  is 
sometimes  asserted,  that  clear  thinking  necessarily  leads 
to  clear  writing.  A  man  who  knows  perfectly  well  what 
he  wants  to  say  may  yet  blunder  in  his  expression  of  it. 
He  may  choose  a  wrong  word,  an  inapt  word,  a  form  of 
expression  of  any  kind  that  does  not  really  say  what  he 
intends  ;  and  so  he  may  set  down  either  something  the 
meaning  of  which  is  ambiguous,  or  a  thought  quite 
different  from  that  in  his  own  mind.  Between  the  author 
and  his  reader  lies  the  whole  domain  of  Style — the  Form 
of  thought  expressed  in  language.  Certain  considera- 
tions, therefore, — some  already  presented,  others  to  be 
presented  now  as  more  specifically  promoting  Clearness, 
— must  be  carefully  borne  in  mind. 

320.  Before    detailing    these    considerations,    however,   one 
preparatory  remark  must  be  made.     All  the  laws  of  Form  as 

'  l  321  ('/),  below.  2  Minto. 


256  STYLE. 

thus  far  set  out, — the  laws  of  Grammatical  Purity,  of  Vocabu- 
lary, the  Sentence,  the  Paragraph,  the  whole  Composition, — 
may  contribute  to  Clearness.     Constant  reference  to  this  fact  has 
been  made  throughout  the  preceding  pages  ;  and  even  more 
constant  reference  might  have  been  made  to  it.    Indeed,  unless 
these  laws  do  contribute  to  the  more  successful,  and,  therefore, 
the  clearer  expression  of  what  one  has  to  say,  they  are  scarcely 
worth  the  time  and  attention  they  justly  receive  in  books  of 
Rhetoric.     The  truth  is  that  all  deparments  and  sub-depart- 
ments of  Rhetoric  in  some  sense  overlap.     Mr.  Minto  adverts 
to  this  fact  (in  part,  at  least)  when  he  says  that  were  an  exami- 
nation of  an  author's  style  to  be  "  ideally  thorough  "  under  any 
one  of  the  three  divisions,  Elements  and  Qualities  of  Style,  and 
Kinds  of  Composition,  such  an   examination  would  exhaust 
everything  that  could  be  said.     The  convenience  of  treating, 
not  Style  only,  but  Rhetoric,  from  several  different  points  olf 
view  justifies  even  some  repetition.1     The  student  will  remem- 
ber, therefore,  that  any  means   of  expression,   any  rhetorical 
device  of  any  kind,  may  assist  him  in  determining  a  point  of 
Clearness  ;  and  that,  since  Clearness  is  a  quality  of  obligation, 
the  quality  most  essential  to  the  effective  communication  of 
thought,  he  may  gratefully  accept  to  this  end  any  help,  from 
whatever  source  it  comes.     At  the  risk,  therefore,  of  repeating 
what  has  been  already  said,  the  following  specifications  of 
Means  to  Clearness  are  set  down. 

321.  (a)  Many  English  words  have  several  meanings, 
and  should  therefore  be  so  used  as  to  indicate  in  each 
case  the  particular  meaning  intended.2     Thus  ; — 

A  man  who  has  lost  his  eye-sight  has  in  one  sense  less  con- 
sciousness than  he  had  before. — The  phrase,  the  art  of  painting 
proved  in  a  certain  sentence,  to  mean  the  art  of  rouging. — An 
American  clergyman  once  printed  the  statement  that  American 
preaching  was  less  from  the  Bible  than  was  preaching  in  Eng- 
land. He  meant  it  was  less  on  the  Bible,  less  explanatory  of 
the  Bible  ;  but  he  was  understood  to  mean  more  on  secular 
topics.  He  appeased  his  brethren  by  a  manly  public  confession 
that  he  had  not  expressed  himself  clearly. — The  English  auxil- 
iary verb  will  expresses  not  only  futurity,  but  willingness  or 
desire.     Hence,  the  common  misunderstanding  of  "Ye  will 

1  Manual,  p.  3.  -  Specifications  (a),  (b),  (c)  are  given  by  Bain. 


/ 


CLEARNESS.  257 

not  [=are  not  willing,  do  not  wish  to]  come  unto  me  that  ye 
may  have  eternal  life." — The  preposition  for  may  mean  either 
because  or  seeing  that :  hence,  a  common  mis-interpretation  of 
Luke  vii.  47. 

(d)  Two  meanings  of  the  same  word  should  not  occur 
in  the  same  context.     Thus  ; — 

Truth  is,  error  and  truth  are  blended  in  their  minds. — This 
is  my  duty  so  long  as  I  "keep  within  the  bounds  of  duty. — He 
left  this  world,  leaving  handsome  fortunes  to  his  children. — The 
letters  of  many  men  of  letters  are  not  distinguished  above  those 
of  ordinary  /^'/--writers. 

(V)  Clearness  is  promoted  by  using  every  word  in  its 
exact  sense  and  by  always  expressing  that  sense  with 
that  word. 

Examples  of  words  easily  confused  in  meaning  have  been  given 
above.1 — A  serious  error  of  the  English  translators  of  the  Bible 
(1611)  was  their  expressing  the  same  Greek  word  by  different 
English  words  and  different  Greek  words  by  the  same  English 
word.  For  example,  in  Rom.  vii.  7,  8,  lust,  covet  and  concu- 
piscence all  express  the  same  idea,  coveting;  in  John  xiii.  10, 
wash  stands  for  two  different  Greek  words,  to  take  a  bath  and 
to  wash. 2 

On  the  other  hand,  Variety  or  Euphony  may  demand 
a  change  of  word,  even  when  the  sense  changes  but  little 
or  not  at  all.  "Our  occidental  taste  in  matters  of 
rhetoric — or  rather  our  English  taste,  for  it  is  doubtless 
traceable  mainly  to  the  influence  of  the  blended  Norman 
and  Saxon  elements  in  our  language — makes  us  like  a 
euphonious  change  in  the  phraseology,3 even  when  there 
is  no  change  in  the  sense."4  For  example,  blameless 
and  guiltless  in  Matt.  xii.  5,  7,  separate  and  divideth  in 
Matt.  xxv.  32,  diversities  and  differences  in  1  Cor.  xii. 
4,  5,  "most   readers,  looking   merely  at   the   English, 

a§i54- 

8  Prof.  Thayer,  in  Bible-Revision,  pp.  133  ff.— The  paper  also  lays  down  the 
necessary  limits  within  which  the  principle  can  be  applied  in  translation.  The 
Revision  of  1881  has  mended  both  places. 

3Diction,  as  the  terms  arc  used  in  this  work.  4Prof.  Thayer,  ut  cit. 

17 


258  STYLE. 

would  prefer  to  let  stand  as  they  are,  rather  than  substi- 
tute in  each  [case]  some  single  identical  term."1  But 
neither  Variety  nor  Euphony  should  be  allowed  to  out- 
weigh Clearness.  When  the  easy  or  the  full  under- 
standing of  a  passage  depends  on  the  repetition  of  the 
same  word  even  many  times,  the  repetition  is  vastly 
preferable  to  any  exchange  of  the  repeated  word  for 
other  terms  however  euphonious  or  varied.  For  ex- 
ample, in  Gen.  xliv.  22,  "The  lad  can  not  leave  his 
father;  for  if  he  should  leave  his  father,  his  father  will 
die,"  not  a  word  can  be  changed  without  destroying  the 
intelligibility  of  the  sentence.  Hence,  the  rule  against 
repeating  an  important  word  in  the  same  context, — a 
rule  often  taught  in  so  severe  a  form  as,  ' '  Never  repeat 
an  important  word  on  the  same  page," — is  actually 
vicious,  unless  it  is  understood  to  be  simply  a  principle 
of  taste, — merely  a  law  of  form,  to  be  set  aside  when- 
ever Clearness  requires, — a  law  true  only  in  the  light,  of 
its  converse, — Always  repeat  a  word  in  any  context, 
provided  no  other  word  expresses  precisely  the  thought 
intended. 

(d)  The  reference  of  many  Pronouns  is  ambiguous. 
For  example  ; — 

"He  told  the  coachman  that  he  would  be  the  death  of  him 
if  he  did  not  take  care  what  he  was  about  and  mind  what  he 
said.'"2 

"A  bull-dog  attacked  a  man  in  an  area.  //  is  thought  that 
by  careful  nursing  he  will  pull  through." 

"The  steamer  Danish  Monarch,  from  Barrow,  experienced  a 
succession  of  heavy  gales  during  the  entire  passage,  which 
stove  in  a  boat  and  the  rail,  swept  the  decks  of  everything 
movable,  and  filled  the  cabin  with  water." 

"As  the  matter  stands  now,  while  the  belief  exists  that  L. 
will  be  elected,  he  will  be  hotly  pressed  by  R.,  championed,  as 
he  is,  .  .  ." 

"He  [a  friend  of  John  Inglesant's]  was  very  particular  in 
inquiring  after  Father  St.  Clare,  and  whether  Inglesant  knew  of 

1  Prof.  Thayer,  ut  cit.      a  Quoted  by  Abbott  and  Seeley,  English  Lessons,  p.  118. 


CLEARNESS.  259 

anything  he  was  engaged  in  ;  but  John  could  give  him  no  infor- 
mation, not  knowing  anything  of  the  Jesuit's  plans.  They  were 
hard  times,  he  said."  ' 

"When  the  gentleman  had  related  this  incident,  he  invited 
Johnny — for  he  was  very  courteous — to  come  on  to  his  house 
and  stop  with  him." 

It  is  especially  a  sinner  ;  for  it  has  two  faces,  or, 
rather,  may  now  turn  its  face  towards  an  antecedent, 
and  now  towards  a  following  noun.     Thus  ; — 

"  English  literature  is  postponed  to  almost  everything  else  :  it 
can  hardly  gain  admission  at  all.  The  most  that  can  be  got  for 
it  is  merely  such  fag-ends  of  time  as  .  .  .  We  think  it  a  fine 
thing  to  have  our  children  studying  Demosthenes  or  Cicero,  but 
do  not  mind  their  being  ignorant  of  Burke  and  Webster."  2 

Dr.  Abbott  lays  down  the  rule,  "Pronouns  should 
follow  the  nouns  to  which  they  refer  without  the  inter- 
vention of  another  noun;"  and,  although  there  are 
many  clear  exceptions  to  this  rule,3 — cases  in  which  ' '  one 
of  two  preceding  nouns  is  decidedly  superior  to  the  other 
in  emphasis," — yet  the  student  had  better  obey  the  rule, 
unless  the  case  is  so  clearly  exceptional  that  no  ambiguity 
of  reference  is  possible.  For  example,  the  following  lines 
are  clear  enough  and  unobjectionable  in  Poetry  ; — 

"  So  sorrow's  heaviness  doth  heavier  grow 
For  debt  that  bankrupt  sleep  doth  sorrow  owe  ; 
Which  now  in  some  slight  measure  it  will  pay, 
If  for  his  tender  here  I  make  some  stay  ;  "* 

but  a  prose  writer  who  demanded  so  much  of  his  reader's 
intelligence  would  certainly  be  to  blame.  Still,  even  in 
Prose,  the  pronoun  need  not  always  refer  to  the  last 
noun.     For  example  ; — 

ijohn  Inglesant,  ch.  iii. — The  context  makes  it  plain  that  the  last  he  means 
Inglesant's  friend. 

2  The  sentence  is  condensed  from  its  original  form  ;  and  the  jarring  of  the 
it's  is  not  only  the  more  noticeable,  but  actually  worse  than  in  the  original. 

3  As  Dr.  Abbott  himself  admits, — Hozu  to  Write,  R.  25. 

4Shakspere,/4  Midsummer' Night' s  Dream,  III.  11.84. — His  is  for  its  (sleep's). 


260  STYLE. 

"Kenyon  made  haste  along  the  Via  Sistina,  in  the  hope  of 
overtaking  the  model,  whose  haunts  and  character  he  was 
anxious  to  investigate  for  Miriam's  sake.  He  fancied  that  he 
saw  him  a  long  way  in  advance  ;  but  before  he  reached  the 
Fountain  of  the  Triton,  the  dusky  figure  had  vanished."  ' 

(e)  If  not  and  other  negative  words  construed  with 
conjunctions  often  become  ambiguous  ;  as  ; — 

The  writings  of  a  great  number,  if  not  the  majority,  of  cele- 
brated authors.2 — He  was  not  sad  because  some  intruder  had 
cast  a  shadow  on  their  mirth. — The  remedy  for  drunkenness  is 
not  to  be  ascetic.3 — A  house  of  business  employing  not  less  than 
a  hundred  clerks  at  any  time.3 

(f)  Often  the  obscurity  is  in  the  entire  structure  of  the 
sentence ;  as  ; — 

"He  was  twice  married,  and  left  six  children.  One  grand- 
child, the  daughter  of  li is  daughter  Mary,  wife  of ,  is  now 

his  only  surviving  descendant." 

"The  widow  called  the  boy  Andrew  again,  whenever  she  felt 
careless  about  her  spiritual  condition,  and  the  youth  behaved 
himself,  but  used  the  name  of  Sapphira's  husband,"  etc. 

"A  Rising  Sun  man  was  so  intent  on  making  his  wife  sorry 
that  he  spent  the  money  for  an  organ  that  he  had  been  saving 
to  pay  the  taxes  with  that  he  resolved  to  make  death  more  than 
doubly  sure." 

322.  Simplicity,  Perspicuity,  and  Precision,  then,  are 
degrees  of  Intelligibility.  Precision  reaches  minuteness 
of  detail ;  Perspicuity  is  contented  with  general  outline ; 
Simplicity,  in  subjects  that  admit  of  it,  is  produced  by  the 
use  of  certain  classes  of  words  and  a  certain  structure  of 
sentence.  Hence,  Simplicity  is  essentially  incompatible 
with  Precision  ;  for  exactness  often  can  not  be  secured 
except  by  the  use  of  terms  that  are  technical  and  un- 
familiar,— terms  the  very  opposite  of  those  that  promote 
simplicity.     Perspicuity  and  Precision  are  more  or  less 

1  Hawthorne,  The  Marble  Faun,  i.  144.— The  secret  here  is  the  maintaining 
of  a  single  pronoun  in  reference  to  the  subject,  and  the  changing  of  this  pronoun 
to  a  noun  again  only  when  the  subject  changes. 

ii  98,  above.  3Cited  in  English  Lessons,  p.  120. 


CLEARNESS.  26 1 

incompatible;  since  "to  dwell  with  minute  precision  on 
the  details  tends  rather  to  confuse  our  impressions  as  to 
the  general  outlines."1  Simplicity  and  Perspicuity  are 
not  necessarily  incompatible;  for  "the  general  outlines 
of  things  can  be  conveyed  in  familiar  language. ' ' l  Thus, 
to  describe  the  earth  as  ' '  round  "  is  to  speak  with  the 
utmost  simplicity,  but  to  convey  only  a  general  outline 
of  its  form  ;  to  say  that  it  is  "  a  sphere  flattened  at  the 
poles"  is  to  be  perspicuous,  but  to  "remove  ourselves 
from  the  easy  comprehension  of  many  of  our  country- 
men ;" '  to  call  it  "an  oblate  spheroid  "  is  to  be  precise, 
but  to  address  the  understanding  of  but  a  handful  of 
English  speakers. 

323.  Hence,  Blair's  rule,  that  "whatever  a  man  con- 
ceives clearly,  it  is  in  his  power,  if  he  will  be  at  the 
trouble,  to  put  into  distinct  propositions,  that  is,  to 
express  clearly  to  others,"  is  truly  (as  Mr.  Minto  terms 
it)  absurd.  For  Blair  uses  but  one  term  Perspicuity  to 
denote  the  three  degrees  of  intelligibility ;  and  his  rule 
must  therefore  mean  that  not  only  precision,  not  only 
general  clearness,  but  even  simplicity,  is  attainable  in 
every  case.  But,  surely,  the  inherent  difficulty  of  a  sub- 
ject may  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for  want  of  simplicity 
or  even  of  perspicuity ;  since  some  subjects  require  for 
their  intelligible  presentation  a  microscopic  minuteness 
of  detail,  and  this  (as  has  been  shown)  is  always  incom- 
patible with  simplicity,  often  with,  perspicuity.  How 
shall  the  anatomy  of  the  nerves  be  made  simple,  or  the 
principles  on  which  the  construction  of  the  steam  engine 
rests?  Certain  mathematical  propositions,  clear  as  the 
light  of  day,  precise  as  a  Newton  or  a  La  Place  can  state 
them,  are  yet  abstruse  to  a  vast  majority  of  the  human 
race.  Many  minds  fail  even  to  formulate  certain  problems 
of  Astronomy  ;  yet  to  other  minds  these  problems  are  as 
familiar  as  the  face  of  one's  intimate  friend. 

1  Minto. 


262  STYLE. 

2.  The  Emotional  Qualities. 

324.  Rhetoricians  usually  recognize  only  one  Emo- 
tional Quality,  Vivacity,  or,  as  they  indifferently  call  it, 
Strength,  Energy,  Force.  Bain  is  right,  however,  in 
naming,  also,  (2)  Pathos  and  (3)  the  Ludicrous ;  for, 
although  the  last  two  are  often  so  characteristic  of  whole 
compositions  as  to  constitute  distinct  modes  of  discourse, 
they  may  also,  beyond  doubt,  be  qualities  of  style  in 
any  kind  of  discourse.  Force,  the  more  generic  word 
of  the  first  group  of  names,  and,  perhaps,  a  better  trans- 
lation of  the  Greek  hipyeta  than  even  energy  itself,  is 
preferred  here  as  the  name  of  the  quality  intended 

(1)  Force. 

325.  Force  is  the  quality  of  Style  that  produces  active 
pleasurable  excitement, — that  pleasurable  excitement 
which  stimulates  the  mind  to  action.  Mr.  Minto's  list 
of  synonyms  gives  a  clearer  idea  of  the  meaning  of  the 
term; — "Animation,  vivacity,  liveliness,  rapidity,  bril- 
liancy ;  nerve,  vigour,  strength,  energy,  fervour ;  dig- 
nity, stateliness,  splendour,  grandeur,  magnificence, 
loftiness,  sublimity  ;"  and  his  sub-groups  (as  indicated 
by  the  semi-colons)  distinguish  the  three  most  marked 
degrees  of  the  quality.  Exactly  to  define  these  terms, 
however,  would  be  impossible ;  their  intention  being 
necessarily  general  so  long  as  different  men  feel  differ- 
ently or  are  different  in  character.  Indeed,  it  is,  per- 
haps, not  even  desirable  that  such  terms  should  be 
weighed  with  accuracy ;  for  substantial  agreement  in 
applying  them  will  the  sooner  be  reached,  if  they  are  not 
too  narrowly  marked  off  from  each  other.  At  their 
extremes,  they  are  easily  distinguished  :  it  is  only  at  their 
points  of  contact  that  they  trench  upon  one  other, — 
the  points  where  animation  (for  example)  in  its  liveliest 


FORCE.  263 

form,  brilliancy,  passes  into  nerve,  or  where  fervour  and 
dignity  overlap.  A  style  that  is  only  animated  is  rarely 
adjudged  sublime ;  nor  is  one  that  is  grand  easily  mis- 
taken for  one  that  is  only  vivacious. 

326.  Force  in  composition  depends  chiefly  on  the 
capacity  of  the  writer  to  feel  strongly.  The  language 
used,  the  structure  of  the  sentence,  other  kindred  devices, 
may  promote  force  in  expression ;  but  they  are  not  the 
sotcrces  of  the  quality. '  True  force  springs  either  from  the 
Possession  or  the  Exercise  of  Power  by  oneself,  or  from 
Sympathy  with  Displays  of  Power  in  others  or  in  Nature. * 
Thus,  Satan  in  Hell  is  at  first  "vanquished,  rolling  in 
the  fiery  gulf,  confounded ' '  ;  but 

"the  thought 
Both  of  lost  happiness  and  lasting  pain 
Torments  him  :  round  he  throws  his  baleful  eyes, 
Mixed  with  obdurate  pride  and  steadfast  hate  ;  " 

and  then,  lashed  to  madness,  he  boldly  defies  God  ; — 

"What  though  the  field  be  lost? 
All  is  not  lost — the  unconquerable  will, 
And  study  of  revenge,  immortal  hate, 
And  courage  never  to  submit  or  yield." 

Even  after  he  has  raised  himself  from  the  burning  lake 
and  surveyed  its  horrors,  he  is  not  dismayed,  but  ex- 
claims,— 

"The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself 
Can  make  a  Heaven  of  Hell,  a  Hell  of  Heaven; 
To  reign  is  worth  ambition,  though  in  Hell : 
Better  to  reign  in  Hell  than  serve  in  Heaven." 

Step  by  step,  as  he  recovers  from  his  dejection,  and 
recognizes  the  power  that  even  the  Omnipotent,  in  ac- 
cordance with  eternal  decrees,  can  not  take  from  him,  his 
language  rises  in  power,  till  it  breaks  into  that  sublime 
address, — 

»See§328,  below.  !Bain. 


264  STYLE. 

"  Powers  and  Dominions,  Deities  of  Heaven  ! — 
For,  since  no  deep  within  her  gulf  can  hold 
Immortal  vigour,  though  oppressed  and  fallen, 
I  give  not  Heaven  for  lost. ' ' 

In  like  manner,  Satan's  rising  spirits  carry  with  them  all 
the  lesser  fiends.  The  assembly  that  has  been  sneeringly 
addressed, — 

"  Have  ye  chosen  this  place 

After  the  toil  of  battle  to  repose 

Your  wearied  virtue  ?  .  .  . 

Or  in  this  abject  posture  have  ye  sworn 

To  adore  the  conqueror? " — 

is  now  a  body  in  which  "  out-fly  " 

"Millions  of  flaming  swords,  drawn  from  the  thighs 
Of  mighty  Cherubim  ;  the  sudden  blaze 
Far  round  illumines  Hell.     Highly  they  rage 
Against  the  Highest,  and  fierce  with  grasped  arms 
Clash  on  their  sounding  shields  the  din  of  war, 
Hurling  defiance  toward  the  vault  of  Heaven." 

So,  the  animated,  the  vigorous,  the  grand  in  Nature 
have  stirred  men's  minds,  and  charged  their  pens  with  a 
diction  more  than  usually  powerful. 

"The  upper  air  burst  into  life  ! 
And  a  hundred  fire-flags  sheen  ; 
To  and  fro  they  were  hurried  about ! 
And  to  and  fro,  and  in  and  out, 
The  wan  stars  danced  between. 

"And  the  coming  wind  did  roar  more  loud, 
And  the  sails  did  sigh  like  sedge  ; 
And  the  rain  poured  down  from  one  black  cloud  ; 
The  moon  was  at  its  edq;e. 


'& 


:  The  thick  black  cloud  was  cleft,  and  still 

The  moon  was  at  its  side  ; 
Like  waters  shot  from  some  high  crag, 
The  lightning  fell  with  never  a  jag, 

A  river  steep  and  wide." 


FORCE.  265 

327.  As  the  deepest  feelings  often  lack  expression,  so 
true  force  in  writing  often  chooses  language  the  most  self- 
restrained.  That  divinest  of  all  prayers,  the  prayer  on 
the  cross,  is  an  example.  The  Saviour's  rebuke  to  the 
renegade  Peter  was  conveyed  by  a  look.  Mere  display 
of  force,  language  without  a  corresponding  elevation  of 
thought  is  Bombast; 1  it 

"  frets  its  hour  upon  the  stage 
And  then  is  heard  no  more  :  it  is  a  tale 
Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 
Signifying  nothing." 

Even  so  clever  a  writer  as  Mr.  Blackmore  has  given  the 
rein  to  this  false  sort  of  Pegasus.  Describing  a  famous 
storm  that  swept  over  England,  he  writes  ;2 — ■ 

"Suddenly,  ere  a  man  might  say  Good  God  !  or  Where  are 
my  children?  every  tree  was  taken  aback,  every  peat-stack 
reeled  and  staggered,  every  cot  was  stripped  of  its  thatch,  on 
the  opposite  side  to  that  on  which  the  blow  was  expected. 

"The  first  squall  of  that  great  tempest  broke  from  the  dark 
south-east.  It  burst  through  the  sleet,  and  dashed  it  upwards 
like  an  army  of  archers  shooting  ;  ere  a  man  could  stay  himself 
one  way,  it  had  caught  him  up  from  another.  The  leaves  from 
the  ground  flew  up  again  through  the  branches  which  had 
dropped  them  ;  and  then  a  cloud  of  all  manner  of  foliage,  whirl- 
ing, flustering,  capering,  flitting,  soared  high  over  the  highest 
tree-tops,  and  drove  through  the  sky,  like  dead  shooting-stars. 

' '  All  the  afternoon  the  squalls  flew  faster,  screaming  onward  to 
one  another,  furious  maniacs  dashing  headlong,  smiting  them- 
selves and  everything.  Then  there  came  a  lull.  So  sudden 
that  the  silence  was  more  stunning  than  the  turmoil.  A  pause 
for  sunset ;  for  brave  men  countless  to  see  their  last  of  sunlight. 

"All  that  night  it  blew  and  blew,  harder  and  harder  yet ;  the 
fishermen's  boats  on  the  beach  were  caught  up,  and  flung 
against  the  gravel-cliff;  the  stout  men,  if  they  ventured  out, 
were  snatched  up  as  a  mother  snatches  a  child  from  the  wheels 
of  a  carriage  ;  the  oaks  of  the  wood,  after  wailing  and  howling, 

1  Originally,  cotton  used  to  stuff  out  doublets.     Hence,  "to  bombast  out  a 
line,"  to  stuff  it  "  full  of  sound  and  fury  signifying  nothing." 
iCradock  Nowell,  eh.  xxxi,  xxxii. 


266  STYLE. 

as  they  had  done  to  a  thousand  tempests,  found  that  outcry  go 
for  nothing:,  and  with  it  went  themselves.  Seven  hundred 
towers  of  nature's  building  showed  their  roots  to  the  morning. 
The  old  moon  expired  at  0.32  ;  and  many  a  gap  the  new  moon 
found,  where  its  mother  threw  playful  shadows.  The  sons  of 
Ytene  are  not  swift-witted,  nor  deeply  read  in  the  calendar ;  yet 
they  are  apt  to  mark  and  heed  the  great  convulsions  of  nature. 
The  old  men  used  to  date  their  weddings  from  the  terrible 
winter  of  1787  :  the  landmark  of  the  young  men's  annals  is  the 
storm  of  1S59. " 

Many  much-vaunted  descriptions  in  the  modern  novel 
are  scarcely  better  than  this  ;  many  are  far  worse.  The 
older  English  dramatists,  too, — even  Shakspere  in  his 
earliest  authorship — erred  in  this  way.     Thus  ; — 

Marlowe's  Tamburlaine,  drawn  in  his  chariot  by  two  captive 
Kings,  fairly  raves  ; — 

"  Holla,  ye  pampered  jades  of  Asia  ! 
What,  can  ye  draw  but  twenty  miles  a  day, 
And  have  so  proud  a  chariot  at  your  heels, 
And  such  a  coachman  as  great  Tamburlaine, 
But  from  Asphaltis,  where  I  conquer'd  you, 
To  Byron  here,  where  thus  I  honour  you  ? 
The  horse1  that  guide  the  golden  eye  of  heaven, 
And  blow  the  morning  from  their  nostrils, 
Making  their  fiery  gait  above  the  clouds, 
Are  not  so  honour'd  in  their  governor 
As  you,  ye  slaves,  in  mighty  Tamburlaine. 
The  head-strong  jades  of  Thrace  Alcides  tatrfd. 
That  King  /Egeus  fed  with  human  flesh, 
And  made  so  wanton  that  they  knew  their  strengths, 
Were  not  subdu'd  with  valor  more  divine 
Than  you  by  this  unconquered  arm  of  mine. 
To  make  you  fierce,  and  fit  my  appetite, 
You  shall  be  fed  with  flesh  as  raw  as  blood, 
And  drink  in  pails  the  strongest  muscadel  : 
If  you  can  live  with  it,  then  live,  and  draw 
My  chariot  swifter  than  the  racking  clouds  ; 
If  not,  then  die  like  beasts,  and  fit  for  naught 
But  perches  for  the  black  and  fatal  ravens. 
Thus  am  I  right— the  scourge  of  highest  Jove ; 
And  see  the  figure  of  my  dignity, 
By  which  I  hold  my  name  and  majesty  !  " 

So,  Shakspere's  Love's  Labours  Lost  begins  with  more  sound 
than  sense ; — 

1  Old  plural. 


FORCE.  267 

"  Let  fame,  that  all  hunt  after  in  their  lives, 
Live  registered  upon  our  brazen  tombs 
And  then  grace  us  in  the  disgrace  of  death; 
When,  spite  of  cormorant  devouring  Time, 
The  endeavour  of  this  present  breath  may  buy 
That  honour  which  shall  bate  his  scythe's  keen  edge 
And  make  us  heirs  of  all  eternity. 
Therefore  brave  conquerors, — for  so  you  are, 
That  war  against  your  own  affections 
And  the  huge  army  of  the  world's  desires, — 
Our  late  edict  shall  strongly  stand  in  force : 
Navarre  shall  be  the  wonder  of  the  world  ; 
Our  court  shall  be  a  little  academe, 
Still  and  contemplative  in  living  art." 

328.  Further  conditions  to  Force  in  Composition  are 
Originality — freshness  of  matter  or  newness  of  form — 
Variety,  and  Economy.  Were  the  rifacimenti1  of  Shaks- 
pere  his  only  dramas,  his  works  would  be  as  little  read 
to-day  as  are  the  miracle-plays  or  the  interludes.  His 
later  works,  many  of  which  are  grounded  on  histories  or 
novels  well-known  in  his  day,  so  transform  the  baser 
metals  of  their  originals,  that  they  are  virtually  his  own 
invention.2  Many  a  talented  novelist  has  made  ship- 
wreck by  employing  too  repeatedly  the  same  plot, 
scenery,  or  aim  in  writing.  For  example,  George  Mac- 
donald,  whose  Alec  Forbes  of  How  Glen,  and  Mrs. 
Muloch-Craik,  whose  John  Halifax,  Gentleman,  rightly 
earned  them  high  rank  among  novelists,  later  dissipated 
their  strength  in  stories  the  sole  purpose  of  which  seems 
to  have  been  to  preach.  Even  Sir  Walter  Scott's  archae- 
ology grows  wearisome;  Thackeray's  Virginians  is  less 
interesting  than  Henry  Esmond — especially,  after  Henry 
Esmond ;  excessive  length,  as  much  as  his  many  defects 
in  style,  has  consigned  Richardson  to  the  limbo  of  books 
forgotten  ;   and  both  the  Paradise  Lost  and  the  Faery 

1  Old  plays  touched  up — Shakspcrc's  apprentice-work. 

2  As  You  Like  It,  for  instance,  tells  a  story  already  told  in  TJie  Cook's  Tale 
of  Gamefyn  ;  Julius  Ccrsar  and  Macbeth  were  largely  drawn  from  North's 
PlutarchaaA  Hollinshead's  Chronicle ;  but  the  most  minute  comparison  leaves 
Shakspere's  credit  for  originality  unhurt. 


268  STYLE. 

Queene  would  be  oftener  read  and  better  known,  were 
their  riches  less  embarrassing. 

(2)  Pathos. 

329.  Pathos  is  the  Quality  of  Style  that  produces 
passive  pleasurable  excitement, — pleasurable  excitement 
that  quiets  rather  than  arouses  the  mind, — excitement  of 
the  more  tender  feelings,  such  as  love,  pity,  benevolence, 
humanity.  The  term  is  not  always  so  restricted,  how- 
ever;  the  most  agitating  "representations  of  pain  and 
misery ' '  being  often  included  under  it.  But  such  repre- 
sentations are  not  always  of  one  character.  They  may 
be  used  by  way  of  suggesting  motives  to  action,  and 
then  they  are  forcible  rather  than  pathetic  ;  but  they 
may  also  be  used  for  the  so-called  poetic  end  of  giving 
melancholy  pleasure,  and  then  they  are  pathetic  rather 
than  forcible.  This  distinction  may  not  be  found  in  the 
words  pathos  and  force  as  commonly  used  :  distinctions 
between  the  several  modes  of  mental  action  rarely  are 
observed  in  the  popular  use  of  even  the  technical  terms 
that  name  them.  But  such  distinctions  are  none  the  less 
useful,  none  the  less  to  be  observed  in  technical  use. 
An  example  or  two  will  make  the  matter  clearer. 

A  lawyer  pleading  for  his  client's  life,  a  preacher  aiming  to 
move  his  audience  to  deeds  of  charity,  will  avoid  no  detail  of 
horror,  of  pain,  of  mental  suffering,  however  harrowing ;  but 
the  novelist,  the  dramatist,  the  poet,  will  ordinarily  reject  details 
that  would  carry  his  reader  beyond  the  limits  of  passive,  into 
the  domain  of  active  excitement.  At  the  most,  he  will  admit 
such  details,  only  that  he  may  the  more  fully  please  his  reader 
by  allaying  the  mental  excitement  they  have  produced,  by 
righting  wrong,  by  vindicating  suspected  virtue,  by  exhibiting 
what  has  rightly  been  termed  poetic  justice.  Or,  if  his  purpose 
is  to  "hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature,"  to  portray  real  life  with 
all  its  actual  grief  and  pain  and  wrong,  its  sickening,  saddening 
load  of  genuine  misery,  he  will  commonly  have  the  further  pur- 
]  ><  -  e  of  showing  the  alleviations,  the  consolations  that  man  so  bur- 
dened may  find  in  philosophy,  in  virtue,  in  religion.     Examples 


PATHOS.  269 

of  novels,  plays,  poems,  to  which  these  remarks  apply  are 
scarcely  necessary  ;  a  few  examples  of  the  apparent  exceptions 
may  be  given.  The  novels  of  Charles  Dickens,  for  instance, 
have  been  criticized  as  overstepping  the  bounds  of  reason  in 
this  respect.  They  carry  us,  it  is  said,  into  scenes  of  actual,  not 
ideal,  horror :  they  make  too  urgent  demands  upon  our  sym- 
pathy ;  they  portray  real  and  present  suffering,  suffering  that 
stands  at  our  doors  and  waits  for  alleviation  from  us.  And  so 
they  undoubtedly  do.  Dickens  does  transcend  the  limits  of 
passive  excitement ;  for  he  had  a  higher  mission  than  merely 
to  please  his  countrymen  :  he  wrote  also  to  correct  abuses. 
True,  he  allures  men  to  listen  ;  but  chiefly,  that  he  may 
spur  them  on  to  action.  He  might,  indeed,  have  written 
essays,  tirades  against  existing  wrongs,  satires  clever  and 
fresh ;  but,  in  that  case,  no  master  of  Dotheboy's  Hall 
would  ever  have  come  to  London  to  bring  suit  against  Dickens 
for  libel  in  revealing  the  secret  crimes  of  his  school,  nor  would 
generation  after  generation  have  pored  over  the  many  pages  that 
teach  such  deep-sinking  lessons  of  sympathy,  of  pure  humanity, 
of  neighborly  kindness  and  love.  George  Macdonald's  Alec 
Forbes,  too,  heart-rending  as  its  details  are,  probably  went  far 
to  banish  the  brutal  tawse  from  Scotch  schools,  and  presents 
a  sufficient  alleviation  in  the  death  together,  at  a  moment 
of  perfect  mutual  understanding  and  reconciliation,  of  the  re- 
pentant schoolmaster  and  his  long-suffering  pupil,  the  victim 
of  his  unrestrained  passion.  The  dismal  picture  of  Denmark 
drawn  in  Hamlet  is  not  all  shadow  :  a  "light"  breaks  upon  it 
"at  eventide  "  from  the  hope  one  may  entertain  that  the  state, 
purified  by  the  many  storms  it  has  passed  through  will  enter  on 
a  new  and  loftier  career.  King  Lear,  except  the  death  of  Cor- 
delia, Othello,  except  the  sacrifice  of  Desdemona,  may  be  ex- 
plained on  the  same  principle.  If  Cordelia  and  Desdemona 
could  not  be  spared  because  of  "the  logic  of  events,"  then  it 
must  be  freely  conceded  that  in  these  cases  Shakspere  has 
passed  beyond  the  limits  of  poetry  into  the  confines  of  history, 
has  portrayed  the  horrible,  not  the  pathetic. 

330.  Pathos,  like  Force,  can  not  be  achieved  merely 
by  the  use  of  supposedly  pathetic  language.  Beneath 
the  language  used  must  be  genuine  pathetic  thought, 
tender  emotion  either  felt  or  sympathized  with  by  the 
writer,  and  giving  character  to  his  style.     Mere  pathos 


270  STYLE. 

of  language  is  Sentimentality,  the  corresponding  vice  to 
Bombast.  Even  poets  of  high  rank, — Wordsworth  and 
Tennyson,  for  instance, — have  fallen  into  this  error  ; — 

"  'T  is  said,  that  some  have  died  for  love  : 
And  there  is  one  whom  I  five  years  have  known  : 
He  loved, — the  pretty  Barbara  died  ; 
And  thus  he  makes  his  moan  : 
'  O  move,  thou  Cottage,  from  behind  that  oak  ! 
Or  let  the  aged  tree  uprooted  lie, 
That  in  some  other  way  yon  smoke 
May  mount  into  the  sky ! 

The  clouds  pass  on  ;  they  from  the  heavens  depart : 
I  look, — the  sky  is  empty  space  ; 
I  know  not  what  I  trace  ; 
But  when  I  cease  to  look,  my  hand  is  on  my  heart.'  "  1 

"  Full  knee-deep  lies  the  winter  snow, 
And  the  winter  winds  are  wearily  sighing  : 
Toll  ye  the  church  bell  sad  and  slow, 
And  tread  softly  and  speak  low, 
For  the  old  year  lies  a-dying. 

Old  year,  you  must  not  die  ; 

You  came  to  us  so  readily, 

You  lived  with  us  so  steadily, 

Old  year,  you  shall  not  die."  '2 

1  Poems  Founded  on  the  Affections,  xiii. 

-  The  Death  of  the  Old  Year,  St.  1. — The  very  personification  seems  absurd, 
and  the  two  lines  next  to  the  last  are  absolutely  nonsensical.     Contrast  with  this 
whole  poem  Tennyson's  truly  strong  and  pathetic  verses,  In  Memoriam,  cvi.  ;— 
"  Ring  out  wild  bells  to  the  wild  sky, 
The  flying  cloud,  the  frosty  light  : 
The  year  is  dying  in  the  night ; 
Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die. 

"  Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new, 
Ring,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow 
The  year  is  going,  let  him  go  ; 
Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

"  Ring  out  old  shapes  of  foul  disease  ; 
Ring  out  the  narrowing  lust  of  gold  ; 
Ring  out  the  thousand  wars  of  old, 
Ring  in  the  thousand  years  of  peace. 

"  Ring  in  the  valiant  man  and  free, 

The  larger  heart,  the  kindlier  hand  ; 
Ring  out  the  darkness  of  the  land, 
Ring  in  the  Christ  that  is  to  be." 


THE    LUDICROUS.  271 

Carried  to  an  extreme,  Sentimentality  becomes  mawkish, 
produces  a  mental  nausea. 

(3)  The  Ludicrous. 

331.  The  Ludicrous,  or  the  Laughable,  is  a  generic 
term  for  whatever  promotes  laughter.  This  may  be  (a) 
the  degradation  of  an  object  (person  or  thing)  ordinarily 
dignified  ;  (6)  the  unexpected  and  ingenious  association 
of  objects  not  usually  connected.  Further,  the  degrada- 
tion constituting  form  (a)  may  be  (a')  malicious,  intended 
to  sting,  or  (a")  good-natured,  (a)  is  Satire;  {a"), 
Humor,     (b)  is  Wit.1     Thus; — 

(a')  "Close  to  those  walls  where  Folly  holds  her  throne 
And  laughs  to  think  Monroe  would  take  her  down, 
Where  o'er  the  gates,  by  his  fam'd  father's  hand, 
Great  Cibber's  brazen,  brainless  brothers  stand  ; 2 
One  cell  there  is  concealed  from  vulgar  eye, 
The  Cave  of  Poverty  and  Poetry. 
Keen,  hollow  winds  howl  thro'  the  bleak  recess, 
Emblem  of  Music  caus'd  by  Emptiness. 
Hence  Bards,  like  Proteus  long  in  vain  tied  down, 
Escape  in  Monsters,  and  amaze  the  town.  [38] 

Hence  Miscellanies  spring,  the  weekly  boast 
Of  Curl's  chaste  press,  and  Lintot's  rubric  post  :3 
Hence  hymning  Tyburn's  elegiac  lines4 
Hence  Journals,  Medleys,  Merc'ries,  Magazines; 
Sepulchral  Lies,5  our  holy  walls  to  grace, 
And  New-Year  Odes,6  and  all  the  Grub-street  race. 

1  Bain  and  Minto. 

2  Monroe  was  physician  to  Bedlam  Hospital ;  Cibber  was  Poet  Laureate ;  his 
father  had  made  two  statues  of  lunatics,  which  were  placed  over  the  Bedlam 
Hospital  gates. 

3Curl  and  i^intot  were  booksellers:  the  latter  advertised  his  books  in  red 
letters. 

4  Criminals  executed  at  Tyburn  sang  psalms  (sometimes  published  elegies  on 
their  own  deaths). 

'Alluding  to  fulsome  epitaphs  on  church  walls,  etc. 

•Written  annually  by  the  Poet  Laureate  to  be  sung  at  Court  on  New  Year's 
Day.    Cibber's  were  especially  famous. 


272  STYLE. 

"  In  clouded  Majesty  here  Dulness  shone  ; 
Four  guardian  Virtues,  round  support  her  throne  : 
Fierce  champion  Fortitude,  that  knows  no  fears 
Of  hisses,  blows,  or  want,  or  loss  of  ears  : 
Calm  Temperance,  whose  blessings  those  partake 
Who  hunger  and  who  thirst  for  scribbling  sake  : 
Prudence,  whose  glass  presents  th'  approaching  jail: 
Poetic  Justice,  with  her  lifted  scale, 
Where,  in  nice  balance,  truth  with  gold  she  weighs 
And  solid  pudding  against  empty  praise."  '  [54] 

{a")  "At  one  of  these  ['two  groceries'  in  Cambridge]  the 
unwearied  students  used  to  ply  a  joke  handed  down  from  class 
to  class. 

"  Enter  A,  and  asks  gravely,  '  Have  you  any  sour  apples, 
Deacon  ? ' 

"  '  Well,  no,  I  haven't  any  just  now  that  are  exactly  sour ;  but 
there's  the  bell-flower  apple,  and  folks  that  like  a  sour  apple 
generally  like  that.'     {Exit  A.) 

"  Enter  B.     '  Have  you  any  sweet  apples,  Deacon  ? ' 

"  '  Well,  no,  I  haven't  any  just  now  that  are  exactly  sweet;  but 
there's  the  bell-flower  apple,  and  folks  that  like  a  sweet  apple 
generally  like  that.'     {Exit  B.) 

' '  There  is  not  even  a  tradition  of  any  one's  ever  having  turned 
the  wary  Deacon's  flank,  and  his  Laodicean  apples  persisted  to 
the  end,  neither  one  thing  nor  another."  2 

(b)   "  Here  lies,  or  lie, — decide  the  question,  you, 
If  they  were  two  in  one  or  one  in  two, — 
P.  and  S.  Snow,  whose  memory  shall  not  fade, 
Castor  and  Pollux  of  the  oyster  trade  : 
Hatched  from  one  egg,  at  once  the  shell  they  burst, 
(The  last,  perhaps,  a  P.  S.  to  the  first,) 
So  homoousian  both  in  look  and  soul, 
So  undiscernibly  a  single  whole, 
That  whether  P.  was  S.,  or  S.  was  P., 
Surpassed  all  skill  in  etymology  ; 
One  kept  the  shop  at  once,  and  all  we  know 
Is  that  together  they  were  the  great  Snow, 
A  snow  not  deep,  yet  with  a  crust  so  thick 
It  never  melted  to  the  son  of  Tick  ; 
Perpetual?  nay,  our  region  was  too  low, 
Too  warm,  too  Southern,  for  perpetual  Snow. 

1  Pope,  The  Dunciad,  I.  29-54. 

2  James  Russell  Lowell,  Cambridge  Thirty  Years  Ago  (in  Fireside  Travels, 
P-  33-) 


THE    LUDICROUS.  273 

But  Snow  is  gone,  and,  let  us  hope,  sleeps  well, 
Buried  (his  last  breath  asked  it)  in  a  shell ; 
Fate  with  an  oyster-knife  sawed  off  his  thread, 
And  planted  him  upon  his  latest  bed. 
Him  on  the  Stygian  shore  my  fancy  sees 
Noting  choice  shoals  for  oyster  colonies, 
Or  at  a  board  stuck  full  of  ghostly  forks, 
Opening  for  practice  visionary  Vorks. 
And  whither  he  has  gone,  may  we  too  go, — 
Since  no  hot  place  were  fit  for  keeping  Snow  ! 
Jam  satis  nivis."1 

332.  The  opposition  here  affirmed  between  Satire  and  Humor 
is  generally  alleged  between  Humor  and  Wit ;  but  "  the  proper 
antithesis  to  Humour  is  Satire:  Wit  is  common  to  both."2 
And,  surely,  if  Wit  has  been  correctly  defined,  this  judgment 
holds.  The  "unexpected  and  ingenious  association  of  objects  " 
may  certainly  be  used  either  for  the  malicious  or  the  good- 
natured  promotion  of  the  Ludicrous  ;  that  is,  Wit  may  be  com- 
bined with  either  Satire  or  Humor  ;  but  it  may  also  exist  alone 
and  for  its  own  sake,  uncomplicated  by  any  intention  whatever, 
simply  for  the  sake  of  being  witty.  There  certainly  is  such  a 
thing  as  pure  Wit ;  as  there  are,  also,  pure  Satire  and  pure 
Humor.  For  example,  Dr.  Holmes's  verses  My  Aunt  are  in 
the  main  pure  satire,  but  each  stanza  closes  (as  is  often  Dr. 
Holmes's  method)  with  a  flash  of  wit  ; — 

"  My  aunt,  my  poor  deluded  aunt ! 

Her  hair  is  almost  gray  ; 
Why  will  she  train  that  winter  curl 

In  such  a  spring-like  way  ? 
How  can  she  lay  her  glasses  down, 

And  say  she  reads  as  well, 
When,  through  a  double  convex  lens 

She  just  makes  out  to  spell  f 

"  Her  father 

....  sent  her  to  a  stylish  school  ; 

'Twas  in  her  thirteenth  June  ; 
And  with  her,  as  the  rules  required, 
Two  towels  and  a  spoon." 

On  the  other  hand,  his  Evening — By  a  Tailor  seems  to  have 
no  other  intention  than  to  contrast  the  pensive,  almost  poetic 
mood  of  the  soliloquist  with  the  grotesque  figures  he  uses  in 
description  :  it  is  pure  Wit.     Thus  ; — 

'James  Russell  Lowell,  Cambridge  'Thirty  Years  Ago  (in  Fireside  Travels, 
p.  38-) 
sMinto. 

18 


274  STYLE. 

"  Day  hath  put  on  his  jacket,  and  around 
His  burning  bosom  buttoned  it  with  stars. 
Here  will  I  lay  me  on  the  velvet  grass, 
That  is  like  padding  to  earth's  meagre  ribs, 
And  hold  communion  with  the  things  about  me — 
Ah  me  !  how  lovely  is  the  golden  braid 
That  binds  the  skirt  of  night's  descending  robe  ! 
The  thin  leaves,  quivering  on  their  silken  threads, 
Do  make  a  music  like  to  rustling  satin, 
As  the  light  breezes  smooth  their  downy  nap. 

"  Is  that  a  swan  that  rides  upon  the  water? 
O,  no,  it  is  that  other  gentle  bird, 
Which  is  the  patron  of  our  noble  calling. 
I  well  remember  in  my  early  years, 
When  these  young  hands  first  closed  upon  a  goose  ; 
I  have  a  scar  upon  my  thimble  finger, 
Which  chronicles  the  hour  of  young  ambition. 
My  father  was  a  tailor,  and  his  father, 
And  my  sire's  grandsire,  all  of  them  were  tailors ; 
They  had  an  ancient  goose, — it  was  an  heirloom 
From  some  remoter  tailor  of  our  race. 
It  happened  I  did  see  it  on  a  time 
When  none  was  near,  and  I  did  deal  with  it, 
And  it  did  burn  me, — oh,  most  fearfully  !" 

So  Pope's  satire,  quoted  above,  is  absolutely  free  from  wit, 
(unless  in  lines  37,  3S  and  53,  54),  and  is  certainly  guiltless  of 
humor  ;  while  Mr.  Lowell's  story  of  the  grocer  is  simply 
humorous,  lacking  the  witty  as  completely  as  it  lacks  the  satirical. 

333.  The  Humorous  and  the  Pathetic  are  apt  to  be 
joined  in  the  same  composition — sometimes  in  the  closest 
union.  Thus,  Mr.  Swiveller  and  the  Marchioness1  stand 
in  marked  contrast  to  Little  Nell  and  her  grandfather. 
The  truly  pathetic  death-scene  of  the  child  follows  hard 
upon  some  of  the  most  amusing  chapters  of  the  book. 
Launcelot  Gobbo  is  not  out  of  place  in  The  Merchant  of 
Venice.  Dr.  Holmes  joins  in  the  same  short  poem"  the 
two  following  stanzas  ; — 

"  The  mossy  marbles  rest 
On  the  lips  that  he  has  prest 

In  their  bloom, 
And  the  names  he  loved  to  hear 
Have  been  carved  for  many  a  year 

On  the  tomb. 

1  Dickens,  Tlie  Old  Curiosity  Shop.  *  The  Last  Leaf. 


THE    .ESTHETIC    QUALITIES.  275 

"  I  know  it  is  a  sin 
For  me  to  sit  and  grin 

At  him  here  ; 
But  the  old  three-cornered  hat, 
And  the  breeches,  and  all  that, 

Are  so  queer! " 

334.  The  distinction  just  made  between  the  Ludicrous  pro- 
duced by  degradation  and  that  produced  by  unexpected  asso- 
ciation will  lead  the  student  intelligently  through  the  mazes  of 
such  terms  as  Sarcasm,  Travesty,  Burlesque,  Mock-Heroic,  etc. 
He  need  only  distinguish  elements  of  the  kind  (a)  from  those 
of  class  (b),  and  his  way  is  clear. 

3.  The  ^Esthetic  Qualities. 

335.  The  ^Esthetic  Qualities  are  those  that  serve  to 
refine  the  style.  This  refinement  may  be  in  the  language 
used,  in  the  relations  of  the  thought  expressed  to  the 
language,  or  in  the  total  effect  produced  by  both  thought 
and  diction.  Hence,  the  ^Esthetic  Qualities  are  (i) 
Melody,  (2)  Harmony,  (3)  Variety,  (4)  Elegance.  A 
more  elaborate  division  could  easily  be  made  ;  but  a 
minute  classification,  interesting  as  it  might  be,  hardly 
seems  necessary. 

(1)  Melody. — (2)  Harmony. 

336.  Melody  and  Harmony  are  technical  terms  of 
Music,  but  are  easily  transferred  to  Style ; — Melody,  the 
effect  produced  by  the  succession  of  pleasing  sounds  ; 
Harmony,  the  effect  of  several  such  sounds  heard 
together.  In  Rhetoric,  the  definition  of  Melody  remains 
unchanged  ;  but  Harmony  is  the  agreement,  not  of  sev- 
eral sounds  with  each  other,  but  of  Sound  with  Sense. 
The  limiting  word  "pleasing"  points  to  Euphony  as  a 
quality  implied  in  Melody ;  while  the  truth  that  sounds 
in  language  (as  in  music)  are  either  accented  or  unac- 
cented, suggests   Rhythm '  as   a  further  implication   in 

1  §  36,  above. 


276  STYLE. 

the  term.  Harmony  may  be  Imitative  or  Symbolical, — 
Imitative,  when  the  words  used  mimic  in  sound  the 
thought  intended  ;  Symbolical,  when  they  ' '  designate 
sensible  objects  or  scenes"  that  "symbolize  or  image 
forth  the  sense. ' '  ' 

The  following  examples  illustrate  these  qualities  ; — 
"Methinks  I  see  in  my  mind  a  noble  and  puissant  nation 
rousing  herself  like  a  strong  man  after  sleep,  and  shaking  her 
invincible  locks ;  methinks  I  see  her  as  an  eagle  mewing  her 
mighty  youth,  and  kindling  her  undazzled  eyes  at  the  full  mid- 
day beam  ;  purging  and  unsealing  her  long-abused  sight  at  the 
fountain  itself  of  the  heavenly  radiance  ;  while  the  whole  noise  of 
timorous  and  flocking  birds,  with  those  also  that  love  the  twilight, 
flutter  about,  amazed  at  what  she  means,  and  in  their  envious 
gabble  would  prognosticate  a  year  of  sects  and  schisms."2 

Pleasing  in  themselves,  the  sounds  follow  one  another  with- 
out jar  or  break  ;  while  the  accents  are  so  admirably  distributed, 
that,  although  the  ear  receives  an  agreeable  sense  of  rhythmic 
movement,  there  is  no  offensive  regularity  of  rhythm.3    So, — 

"At  summer  eve,  when  Heaven's  ethereal  bow 
Spans  with  bright  arch  the  glittering  hill  below, 
Why  to  yon  mountain  turns  the  musing  eye, 
Whose  sun-bright  summit  mingles  with  the  sky  ? 
Why  do  those  cliffs  of  shadowy  tint  appear 
More  sweet  than  all  the  landscape  smiling  near? 
'Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view, 
And  robes  the  mountain  in  its  azure  hue. 
Thus,  with  delight,  we  linger  to  survey 
The  promised  joys  of  life's  unmeasured  way, 
Thus,  from  afar,  each  dim-discovered  scene 
More  pleasing  seems  than  all  the  past  hath  been, 
And  every  form,  that  Fancy  can  repair 
From  dark  oblivion  glows  divinely  there."4 

Euphony  and  Melody  at  every  point,  and  a  regular  Rhythm, 
as  becomes  verse. 

"  But  Ida  with  a  voice,  that  like  a  bell 

Toll'd  by  an  earthquake  in  a  trembling  tower, 
Rang  ruin,  answer'd  full  of  grief  and  scorn." 

"  Eut  had  you  stood  by  us, 
The  roar  that  breaks  the  Pharos,  from  his  base 
Had  left  us  rock.'"'0 

1  H.  N.  Day,  by  whose  classification  this  whole  paragraph  has  been  suggested. 
5  Milton,  Areopagitica.  3 §  4°>  above. 

*Campbell,  The  Pleasures  of  Hope.  5  Tennyson,  The  Princess,  vi. 


MELODY. — HARMONY.  277 

The  italicized  words  are  especially  imitative  ;  but  there  is  a 
further  agreement  of  Sound  and  Sense  in  each  passage  as  a 
whole.  Of  passages  that  symbolize  the  sense  expressed  the 
following  are  good  examples  ;— 

"  How  calm,  how  beautiful,  comes  on 
The  stilly  hour  when  storms  are  gone  ; 
When  warring  winds  have  died  away, 
And  clouds,  beneath  the  glancing  ray, 
Melt  off,  and  leave  the  land  and  sea 
Sleeping  in  bright  tranquillity, — 
Fresh  as  if  Day  again  were  born, 
Again  upon  the  lap  of  Morn  !  "  ' 

The  dying  away  of  the  winds,  the  melting  off  of  the  clouds, 
the  bright  tranquillity  of  land  and  sea,  all  contribute  to  produce 
in  the  mind  of  the  reader  the  impression  actually  made  by  "  the 
stilly  hour  when  storms  are  gone."  So,  how  perfectly  one  can 
see  the  ship  in  which  Arthur  Hallam's  remains  are  being  wafted 
home  ; — 

"  A  favorable  speed 
Ruffle  thy  mirror'd  mast,  and  lead 
Thro'  prosperous  floods  his  holy  urn. 

"  All  night  no  ruder  air  perplex 

Thy  sliding  keel,  till  Phospor,  bright 
As  our  pure  love,  thro'  early  light 
Shall  glimmer  on  the  dewy  decks. 

"  Sphere  all  your  lights  around,  above  ; 
Sleep,  gentle  heavens,  before  the  prow  ; 
Sleep,  gentle  winds,  as  he  sleeps  now, 
My  friend,  the  brother  of  my  love."  2 

337.  The  question  how  far  a  prose  writer  may  avail 
himself  of  the  rhythmic  movement  of  language  has 
already  been  answered  by  implication.3  That  the  best 
Prose  has  a  rhythm  of  its  own,  and  that  exceptional 
Prose  may  come  quite  near  the  domain  of  verse, — 
perhaps,  may  trespass  upon  it, — has  been  seen.  But  a 
prudent  writer  will  always  prefer  an  unmistakable  prose 
rhythm,  and  will  rarely  or  never  choose  a  rhythm  of  any 
other  kind.  If  his  subject,  the  feelings  it  naturally 
arouses,  any  sufficient  causes,  lead  him  into  a  verse-like 
rhythm,  he  must  be  able  to  find  the  fullest  justification  for 

1  Moore,  Lalla  Rookli  {The  Fire  Worshippers). 

2  In  Memanat/i,  ix.  3gg  40  ff,  158  (2)  ff,  above. 


278  STYLE. 

that  rhythm  in  those  causes.  Inadvertencies  in  this  mat- 
ter, especially  the  unconscious  joining  of  rhyme  with  an 
unmistakable  verse-rhythm,  produce  the  most  ludicrous 
effects.  The  examples  cited  above 1  show  the  truth  of  the 
first  part  of  this  statement ;  the  following  evidently  acci- 
dental structures  of  sentences  establish  the  other  part ; — 

"A  view  closely  analogous  to  the  belief  that  good  shall  fall 
at  last  to  all r1 

"When  parallel  rays  come  contrary  ways,  and  fall  upon 
opposite  sides."3 

(3)  Variety. 

338.  Variety  implies  a  judicious  interchange  of  the 
many  forms  of  expression,  modes  of  composition,  all 
the  characteristics  of  discourse.  Monotony  is  not  only 
displeasing  to  the  taste ;  it  imperils  the  success  of  the 
work,  both  by  diverting  the  attention  that  a  judicious 
exchange  of  forms,  etc. ,  excites  and  retains,  and  by 
failing  tQ  stimulate  the  mind  of  the  reader  to  its  best 
exertions.  Feeble  as  the  itchine  for  "something  new" 
undoubtedly  is,  when  it  is  only  the  idle  desire  of  a  gossip, 
there  is,  nevertheless,  a  legitimate  craving  for  something 
new,  a  craving  with  which  man  has  been  endowed  by 
nature.  Besides,  Variety  implies  only  something  differ- 
ent— new,  not  in  itself,  but  only  so  far  as  it  is  in  con- 
trast with  its  immediate  surroundings.  Many  examples 
showing  this  quality  of  style  have  already  been  quoted  ; 
and,  hence,  no  special  citations  seem  necessary  here. 

(4)  Elegance. 

339.  Elegance  is  the  Quality  of  Style  by  which  dis- 
course commends  itself  to  the  Taste  of  the  hearer  or 
reader.  By  Taste  is  meant  either  "artistic  sensibility, — 
as  Blair  defines  it,  '-the  power  of  receiving  pleasure  from 
the  beauties  of  nature  and  of  art, — '  "  or  "artistic  judg- 

1 11  40  ff,  158  (2)  ff,  above. 

2  Quoted  from  Canon  Farrar  in  The  Churchman,  February  16,  1878. 

8  Quoted  by  Day,  \  262. 


ELEGANCE.  279 

merit,"  correctness  of  Taste.  Bain  thinks  it  may  also 
mean  "the  kind  of  artistic  excellence  that  gives  the 
greatest  amount  of  pleasure  to  cultivated  minds  ; ' '  and, 
hence,  he  accepts  it  as  the  name  of  the  quality ;  but  to 
say  the  least,  the  word  is  unfamiliar  in  this  meaning,  and 
the  term  Elegance  is  now  so  well  established,  that  it 
would  seem  unfortunate  to  substitute  for  it  an  unfamiliar 
name.  As  used  here,  Taste  means  artistic  judgment,  and 
Elegance  the  quality  of  Style  that  disposes  this  judg- 
ment favorably.  A  few  examples  of  the  Elegant  in  com- 
position may  be  added  ; — 

"  They  walked  out  hand-in-hand,  through  the  court,  and  to 
the  terrace-walk,  where  the  grass  was  glistening  with  dew,  and 
the  birds  in  the  green  woods  above  were  singing  their  delicious 
choruses  under  the  blushing  morning  sky.  How  well  all  things 
were  remembered  !  The  ancient  towers  and  gables  of  the  hall 
darkling  against  the  east,  the  purple  shadows  on  the  green 
slopes,  the  quaint  devices  and  carvings  of  the  dial,  the  forest- 
crowned  heights,  the  fair  yellow  plain  cheerful  with  crops  and 
corn,  the  shining  river  rolling  through  it  towards  the  pearly  hills 
beyond ;  all  these  were  before  us,  along  with  a  thousand  beau- 
tiful memories  of  our  youth,  beautiful  and  sad,  but  as  real  and 
vivid  in  our  minds  as  that  fair  and  always  remembered  scene 
our  eyes  beheld  once  more.  We  forget  nothing.  The  memory 
sleeps,  but  wakens  again ;  I  often  think  how  it  shall  be  when, 
after  the  last  sleep  of  death,  the  reveille  shall  rouse  us  forever, 
and  the  past  in  one  flash  of  self-consciousness  rush  back,  like 
the  soul  revivified."  x 

"  My  soul  is  an  enchanted  boat 
Which,  like  a  sleeping  swan,  doth  float 
Upon  the  silver  waves  of  thy  sweet  singing  ; 
And  thine  doth  like  an  angel  sit 
Beside  the  helm  conducting  it, 
While  all  the  winds  with  melody  are  ringing 
It  seems  to  float  ever,  forever, 
Upon  that  many-winding  river, 
Between  mountains,  woods,  abysses, 
A  paradise  of  wildernesses! 
Till,  like  one  in  slumber  bound, 
Borne  to  the  ocean,  I  float  down,  around, 
Into  a  sea  profound  of  ever  spreading  sound."2 

1  Thackeray,  Henry  Esmond.  -  Shelly,  Prometheus  Unbound. 


28o  STYLE. 

340.  Bain  has  aptly  defined  two  elements  of  Taste,  one 
permanent,  and  one  variable.  Certain  questions  of  taste 
though  men  should  dispute  about  them  forever,  do  not  admit 
of  discussion.  The  points  at  issue  have  been  decided  by 
an  appeal  to  fundamental  and  unchallengeable  truths :  the 
questions  are  closed.  Many  rules  of  Rhetoric  are  of  this  kind, 
— the  doctrine  of  judicious  Brevity,  the  necessity  of  Clearness, 
the  evil  effect  of  incessantly  recurring  mannerisms,  the  excel- 
lence of  an  idiomatic  style,  the  importance  of  being  oneself  in 
composition,  etc.  But  on  other  questions,  tastes  vary  in  different 
ages  and  in  individuals.  Neither  the  drama  of  the  Greeks  nor 
the  "license  of  personal  vituperation"  they  allowed  their 
orators  are  in  taste  to-day.  English  literature  of  the  Classic 
Period — loosely  1660  to  1789 — accepted  many  rules  of  composi- 
tion which  the  common  sense  reaction  of  the  succeeding  period 
abrogated.  Lessing  gave  form  as  well  as  life  to  German  litera- 
ture, till  his  time  almost  a  wilderness.  So,  "the  emotional 
constitution,  the  intellectual  tendencies,  and  the  education  of 
each  individual"  cause  divergencies  of  taste.  Poetry  appeals 
to  many  minds  that  music  fails  to  touch,  and  vice  versa.  Men 
"of  wider  literary  knowledge  and  superior  discernment  groan 
inwardly,  some  of  them  outwardly,  at  the  judgment  of  the 
multitude  in  the  matter  of  sublimity,  pathos,  and  humour." 
Further,  there  are  schools  of  writers,  each  with  its  own  admirers 
and  its  own  clamorous  defenders.  In  a  word,  as  there  are 
"  many  men,"  so  there  are  "many  minds  ;  "  and,  provided  the 
disagreement  turns  solely  on  matters  of  a  personal,  individual 
character,  "  there  is  no  disputing  about  tastes."  Perhaps  the 
whole  case  for  both  elements  of  Taste  may  be  summed  up  in 
a  single  law  ; — Men  differ  most  when  their  sensibilities  are 
engaged  ;  their  intellectual  judgments  are  more  nearly  at  one. 


PART    SECOND, 


INVENTION. 


SUB-DIVISIONS. 

341 .  Invention  states  the  Rules  that  direct  and  control 
the  Discovery  of  Matter  for  the  Composition.1  These 
rules  concern  either  the  subject  about  which  one  writes, 
the  The  me,2  or  else  the  composition  itself,  what  one  writes 
about  the  Theme,  the  Discussion.  Hence,  two  sub- 
divisions of  Part  Second, — (A)  The  Theme,  (B)  The 
Discussion. 

342.  The  word  Discussion  is  used  here  in  a  slightly  broader 
sense  than  in  \  280,  above.  There  it  meant  the  body  of  the  com- 
position, as  opposed  to  the  Proposition,  the  Introduction,  and 
the  Conclusion  :  here  it  includes  these  parts  as  well  as  the  Dis- 
cussion properly  so  called.  But,  all  told,  these  parts  add  but 
little,  in  proportion,  to  the  Discussion  Proper ;  and  the  extension 
of  the  term  to  include  everything  but  the  Theme  is,  hence,  not 
a  material  variation  of  its  meaning.  Besides,  although  the 
parts  named  must  be  considered  as  belonging  to  the  Discussion 
in  this  broader  sense  of  the  term,  yet  the  rules  to  be  stated  for 
the  Discussion  apply  to  it  most  particularly  in  its  narrower 
meaning.  The  Introduction  and  the  Conclusion  have  already 
been  characterized  as  non-essential;  and  the  Proposition  itself 
is  in  a  certain  sense  outside  the  composition,  since,  in  any  case, 
it  is  determined  rather  as  a  part  of  the  development  of  the 
Theme  than  as  a  part  of  the  Discussion  properly  so  called. 

!§  23,  above. 

2Greek  nfcVai,  to  put  (forward  as  the  subject  of  a  composition). 

281 


282  INVENTION. 


(A)  THE  THEME. 

343.  The  Theme  may  be  (1)  given,  (2)  suggested  (or, 
at  least,  limited}  by  the  occasion  for  which  the  com- 
position is  intended,  (3)  left  wholly  to  the  choice  of  the 
writer.     For  example  ; — 

(1)  The  lawyer  has  his  "  case  "  brought  to  him  ;  and  it  is  to 
that  case,  and  no  other,  that  he  must  address  himself,  whether 
in  the  papers  filed  as  preliminaries  to  the  trial,  or  in  what  he 
may  say  before  judge  or  jury.  His  theme  is  chosen  for  him  : 
should  he  for  any  reason  speak  on  a  subject  not  fairly  raised  by 
the  case,  the  judge  but  discharges  a  plain  duty  in  demanding 
that  he  shall  keep  to  his  subject.  So,  the  legislator  must  speak 
on  the  bill  before  the  house.  A  "  Duluth  "  Knott  or  a  "  Sun- 
set" Cox  may  spend  his  store  of  humor  or  wit  on  his  colleagues; 
but  there  is  no  pretence  that  in  this  sort  of  talk  the  house  is 
occupied  with  the  debate. 

(2)  The  sacred  preacher  has,  indeed,  a  wide  range  of  subjects 
for  his  sermons  ;  but,  nevertheless,  he  meets  much  adverse 
criticism,  if  he  steps  far  beyond  the  limits  of  the  religious  or  the 
moral.  Important  public  questions  that  affect  these  sides  of 
man's  nature, — even  the  political  life  of  the  people  considered 
as  one  means  of  their  education  by  Divine  Providence, — may 
(perhaps,  should)  receive  his  attention  ;  but  merely  secular 
topics,  topics  not  even  remotely  his,  are  justly  objected  to  in  the 
pulpit.  Besides,  the  many  special  occasions  that  arise  in  the 
year,  even  in  the  churches  that  do  not  observe  a  fixed  order  of 
services,  often  limit  the  preacher  in  his  choice  of  subject ;  while 
many  occurrences  are  not  unusual  that  render  one  subject  more 
fit  than  another.  The  preacher's  subject  is,  of  course,  not  set ; 
but  in  many  ways  his  choice  is  biassed. 

(3)  The  public  lecture,  the  magazine  article,  the  opus  magnum 
of  a  scholarlike  Casaubon,  have  their  subjects  at  the  will  of  their 
authors.  Circumstances,  to  be  sure,  may  influence  even  these 
cases ;  but,  so  far  as  any  subject  of  composition  is  at  will,  the 
subjects  of  these  and  other  such  works  are  so. 

344.   In  all  three  instances,  however,   ample  room  is 
left  the  writer  to  exercise  his  judgment. 


THE   THEME.  283 

(1)  In  the  suit  at  law,  not  a  little  depends  upon  how  a  case  is 
put  before  the  court.  The  question  that  presents  itself  on  the 
surface  is  not  always  the  real  point  at  issue  ;  and  the  lawyer 
may  therefore  abundantly  employ  his  ingenuity  in  finding  this 
real  question:  in  fact,  by  thus  "making"  his  case,  he  all  but 
chooses  his  subject.  For  example,  John  Hampden,  sued  in  the 
time  of  King  Charles  the  First  for  non-payment  of  taxes,  showed 
the  magistrate  that  the  real  question  was  whether  the  King 
should  be  allowed  to  usurp  unconstitutional  powers.  Many  a 
proposed  act  of  legislature  has  been  successfully  represented  or 
misrepresented  by  a  re-reading  of  its  title  or  by  an  open  or 
covert  sneer.  The  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  in  England  was, 
on  different  views  of  the  bill,  either  an  act  to  put  bread  into  the 
mouths  of  starving  women  and  children  or  a  measure  to  ruin 
the  English  farmer.  A  certain  "bill  for  the  Relief  of  the  Sur- 
viving Officers  of  the  Revolution  "  l  was  kindly  mentioned  by 
Mr.  Webster  as  proposing  "an  annuity:"  a  senator  from 
Georgia  had  sneered  at  its  beneficiaries  as  willing  to  accept 
"a  pension." 

(2)  The  clergyman,  more  than  any  other  public  speaker,  will 
find  room  for  a  wise  judgment  in  selecting  his  theme.  The  pro's 
and  con's  are  often  nicely  balanced  in  regard  to  a  subject  ;  and 
a  mistake  on  his  part  is  commonly  fatal.  When  Slavery  was 
still  a  factor  in  American  politics,  a  famous  clergyman  preaching 
on  the  Psalms  in  course,  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the 
story  of  Doeg  the  Edomite  who  betrayed  to  Saul  the  hiding- 
place  of  David.  A  general  discourse  on  Doeg's  treachery 
would  have  avoided  the  "burning  question"  of  the  day,  the 
Fugitive  Slave  Law.  But  the  preacher  held  decided  Anti- 
Slavery  views,  and  he  considered  his  meeting  thus  incidentally 
a  text  that  allowed  him  to  free  his  soul  of  a  long  undischarged 
weight  of  responsibility,  a  call  from  Heaven.  Till  then,  had  he 
introduced  the  subject,  he  must  have  gone  out  of  his  way  to 
bring  it  into  his  pulpit ;  and  his  conscience  had  hitherto  absolved 
him.  But  now  the  question  had  presented  itself  to  him  :  to 
evade  it  would  be  cowardice.  His  sermon  broke  some 
old  friendships,  might  have  rent  his  church  asunder ;  but  the 
topic  was  not  of  his  choosing,  and  consequences,  he  felt,  might 
wisely  be  left  to  Him  in  whose  name  he  stood  before  the  people. 

(3)  Even  the  writer  whose  choice  seems  wholly  unbiassed  can 
not  be  absolutely  indifferent  to  circumstances.     A  number  of 

>  U.  S.  Senate,  April  1S28. 


284  INVENTION. 

considerations  determine  him, — considerations  that  must  be 
detailed  in  full.  The  same  considerations  are  often  of  value, 
too,  in  the  second  case. 

345.  Whenever  the  subject  is  not  definitely  given, — 
cases  (2)  and  (3),  §  343,  above, — the  writer  must  deter- 
mine, before  attempting  a  selection,  (a)  the  occasion  for 
which  he  intends  his  composition,  (b)  the  character  of 
the  persons  he  may  reasonably  expect  to  address,  and 
(c)  the  end  he  has  in  view  in  writing.  His  selection  will 
then  be  made  in  accordance  with  his  determinations 
upon  these  three  points.  In  case  (2),  condition  (a) 
will  be  in  some  measure  satisfied ;  but  there  will  still 
remain  to  be  settled  the  particular  circumstances  under 
which  the  discourse  is  to  be  delivered.  Of  course,  a 
writer  may  work  in  ignorance  of  points  (a)  and  (b)  or 
in  indifference  to  them  ;  but  what  he  writes  will  then  be 
addressed  to  minds  of  a  certain  order  only,  and  be 
suited  to  occasions  of  only  a  certain  sort.  When  brought 
into  use,  it  will  either  prove  adapted  as  if  by  chance,  or 
else  have  to  be  recast. 

346.  Further,  (d)  the  theme  must  be  one  that  the 
writer  is  capable  of  handling.  Not  that  he  must  know 
beforehand  all  that  can  be  said  about  it :  on  the  contrary, 
the  strongest  incentive  a  writer  can  have,  is  the  interest 
that  his  subject  has  for  his  own  mind  ;  and  this  interest  is 
never  greater  than  when  it  is  prompted  by  the  discovery 
of  something  new.  All  that  is  meant  by  the  rule  is  that 
the  writer  must  be  prepared  by  previous  studies,  etc. ,  to 
understand  his  subject,  to  learn  what  he  will  need  to  know 
of  it,  and,  hence,  to  be  able  to  express  worthy  thought 
about  it. 

347.  (<?)  ' '  Fertile ' '  subjects  are  especially  to  be  avoided. 
They  are  commonly  hackneyed  and,  hence,  difficult  to 
make   interesting.     They  involve,  too,  a  great  body  of 
details,  for  the  definition  and  classification    of  which  a 
vigorous  mental  grasp  is  needed,  and  the  presentation 


THE    THEME.  285 

of  which  to  the  reader  requires  a  commanding  use  of 
method.  If  such  a  subject  must  be  written  on,  the  writer 
will  find  his  powers  tested  to  their  utmost :  he  will  need 
to  call  to  his  aid  every  help  that  Nature  or  Art  can 
render  him. 

348.  The  theme  obtained,  it  must  be  developed  :  (a) 
its  exact  meaning  must  be  determined  ;  and  (//)  the  par- 
ticular form  it  is  to  take  in  the  work  in  hand  must  be 
selected.  This  selection  may  have  to  be  postponed  until 
the  student  has  read  on  the  subject  proposed,  and  has 
collected  at  least  a  part  of  his  material ;  but  in  actual 
literary  work,  the  purpose  in  writing  is  always  known, 
and  the  material  to  be  used  is  selected  in  accordance  with 
this  purpose,  not  the  purpose  determined  in  accordance 
with  the  material  used.  The  Proposition  may  then  be 
distinctly  written  out ;  and  now  the  writer  is  ready  to 
outline  his  Discussion,  to  set  down  its  several  heads  and 
sub-divisions,  and  to  arrange  for  necessary  introductory 
or  concluding  matter.  Of  course,  formality  in  this  pro- 
cess is  fatal :  the  finished  work  must  show  as  slight  traces 
of  the  mechanical  part  of  composition  as  may  be.  Ars 
est  cclare  artem.  Yet,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  the 
writer  does  take  each  of  these  steps,  and  must  take  them. 

Thus,  suppose  the  subject  selected  to  be  Self- Preservation. 
The  first  question  must  be,  What  does  the  term  mean  ?  Is  self- 
preservation  only  an  instinct  that  keeps  men  from  unnecessarily 
endangering  life  or  limb,  that  makes  them  avoid  danger  and 
suffering  when  nothing  is  to  be  gained  by  incurring  either ;  or 
is  it  a  cowardly  self-love  that,  indulged  freely,  would  render 
deeds  of  heroism  or  self-sacrifice  impossible  ?  Or,  again,  does  the 
word  mean  only  the  judicious  care  of  one's  life  and  health  and 
the  promotion  by  every  wise  means  of  bodily  vigor  to  old  age? 
On  the  definition  accepted  will  turn,  of  course,  the  form  the 
work  is  to  take, — the  Proposition,  the  matter  proper  for  the 
Discussion,  every  part  of  the  composition  from  its  first  word  to 
its  last.  In  the  first  case,  the  Proposition  might  be,  SelfPreser- 
vation  is  a  Law  of  Nature ;  the  Discussion,  an  illustration  of 
the  law  and  a  definition  of  the  privileges  it  confers  and  the 


286  INVENTION. 

duties  it  imposes.  In  the  second  case,  the  paradox  might  be 
affirmed  that,  although  self-preservation  has  its  root  in  selfish- 
ness, yet,  because  a  genuine  sympathy  comes  only  through 
suffering,  and  self-preservation  inclines  a  man  to  avoid  suffering 
for  himself,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  will  irresistibly 
draw  him  through  his  sympathies  to  deeds  of  self-sacrifice  and 
even  heroism  in  behalf  of  others.  If  the  third  definition  were 
accepted,  the  essay  might  consist  of  such  a  series  of  hygienic 
suggestions,  and  such  moral  applications  of  them,  as  the  occa- 
sion and  other  circumstances  would  warrant. 

349.  Thus,  out  of  a  single  theme,  (stated  most  broadly, 
to  be  sure,)  three  distinct  compositions  suggest  them- 
selves. Nor  was  the  subject  at  first  glance  most  promising. 
A  young  writer,  working  without  the  directions  here 
given,  would  in  all  probability  have  set  down  the  disjointed 
thoughts  that  occurred  to  him,  as  they  occurred  to  him, 
without  defined  purpose  in  writing,  and  without  consist- 
ency with  either  this  purpose  or  one  another.  He  would 
have  achieved  such  a  result  as  ' '  young  Mr.  Brown  ' ' 
achieved,  when  he  refused  "to  be  put  into  the  leading 
strings"  of  a  proposition,  and  tried  to  write  on  Fortune 
instead  of  on  the  thesis  Fortune  Helps  the  Brave}  He 
would  ignominiously  have  failed  ;  while  the  experience 
of  every  teacher  of  Composition  proves  that  reasonably 
good  work  can  be  done  by  even  young  writers,  if  they 
are  taught  the  subject  in  this  systematic  way.2 

'J.  H.  Newman,  Lectiireson  University  Subjects,  p.  150. — Dr.  Newman's  idea, 
however,  that  a  young  writer  should  always  have  a  proposition  stated  for  him, 
— that  (in  the  University  tutor's  words  in  the  Brown  case)  "  it  would  have  been 
very  cruel  to  have  told  a  boy  to  write  on  '  fortune  ' ;  it  would  have  been  like 
asking  his  opinion  of 'things  in  general,'" — loses  sight  of  the  valuable  dis- 
cipline a  student  receives  in  stating  his  own  proposition.  Besides — supposing 
always  that  idle  jottings  about  Fortune  or  any  other  subject  are  rigorously 
forbidden  by  the  instructor — why  not  allow  the  young  writer  the  freedom  that 
a  choice  of  propositions  gives  him?  Few  subjects  of  thought,  few  themes 
forced  on  a  man  by  his  experience,  come  in  the  shape  of  a  sentence.  Does  not 
every  one,  sooner  or  later,  formulate  for  himself  judgments  about  Life  and 
Death  and  numberless  other  topics?  Since  Whately,  Rhetoric  has  too  often 
taught  Logic,  and  not  the  Art  of  Discourse. 

:  Among  the  many  thousand  compositions  read  by  the  author  as  professor  of 
Rhetoric,  only  a  mere  handful  have  been  like  young  Mr.  Brown's. 


THE    DISCUSSION.  287 


(B)  THE  DISCUSSION- 

350.  The  collection  of  matter  for  a  composition  on  any 
theme  is  guided  chiefly  by  the  purpose  of  the  writer  ; 
for  it  is  this  purpose,  in  the  main,  that  determines  the 
mode  0/  discussion  proper  to  the  given  work.1  At  the 
same  time,  certain  general  rules  can  be  stated  ;  though, 
of  course,  no  special  directions  can  be  given  to  meet  each 
theme.  Hence,  two  chief  heads  of  this  sub-division  of 
Invention — I.  General  Rules,  II.  The  Modes  of  Discus- 
sion. 

350  a.  To  give  specific  directions  for  the  discussion 
of  separate  themes,  Rhetoric  would  have  to  teach 
men  universal  knowledge ; 2  whereas  what  a  writer 
needs  to  know  on  a  given  subject  he  must  learn 
from  the  authorities  on  that  subject.  Earnest  writing 
presupposes  earnest  reading — and  not  this  alone,  but 
earnest  thought  and  an  earnest  effort  to  make  what  is 
read  one's  own,  or  even  to  be  stimulated  by  it  to  truly 
original  thought.  Simply  to  appropriate  another  man's 
work,  even  if  one  expresses  it  in  one's  own  words,  is  the 
flagitious  act  called  by  the  hard  name  plagiarism,  or 
literary  theft :  to  "assimilate"  what  one  reads,  making  it 
the  source  of  new  life  and  power,  is  work  worthy  of  the 
highest  intellectual  and  moral  powers  in  man.  The  best 
work  on  important  subjects  must  be  grounded  on  the 
work  of  one's  predecessors;3  and,  hence,  whatever  has 
been  written  on  a  subject  must  be  considered  as  at  a 
later  writer's  disposal.  But  this  principle  gives  no 
iicense  to  literary  theft,  nor  does  it  warrant  the  trans- 
ferring from  another  writer's  pages  to  one's  own  his 
matter  bodily.* 

H  355.  below.  2  Appendix,  p.  331. 

3i  35T>  below.  4  Except,  of  course,  in  quotation-marks. 


288  INVENTION. 


I. 

GENERAL   RULES. 

351.   (1)     Exhaustive  treatment  of  a  subject  requires 
on  the  writer's  part  a  complete  knowledge  of  that  sub- 
ject,— especially,  a   wide   acquaintance  with   the   views 
of  all  previous  writers.      In  this  way,  not  only  will  com- 
pleteness be  secured,   and  the  repetition  as  original  of 
opinions  tried  and   found  false   or  inadequate,  be   pre- 
vented ;    but,    and    especially,    will    the    stimulus    that 
knowledge  broad  and  deep  always  applies  to  thought, 
most  surely  be  felt  by  the  writer.     It  is  only  when  the  mind 
is  heavily  charged  with  truth,  that  the  finest  display  of 
power  in  writing  is  possible.    For  example,  Mr.  Dowden, 
in  Shakspcre :  His  Mind  and  Art,  says  that,  although  he 
was  writing  from  a  new  point  of  view,  yet,  "  in  order  to 
get  substantial  ground  to  go  upon,"  he  had  "thought  it 
necessary  to  form  acquaintance  with  a  considerable  body 
of  recent  Shakspere  scholarship;"    and  that,  although 
he  was  avoiding  "  purely  scholastic  questions,"  and  was 
aiming  "to  approach  Shakspere  on  the  human  side," 
yet  he  believed  ' '  that  Shakspere  is  not  to  be  approached 
on   any   side   through   dilettantism."     So,   Motley  and 
Macaulay — doubtless  every  great  writer — spent  years  of 
patient,    pains-taking  toil,    often  among  musty,   worm- 
eaten  state  or  private  papers,  before  a  single  volume  of 
their  works  was  possible.1 

352.  (2)  \l  Wiin  limited  portions  of  a  subject  very  good 
work  can  be  done  without  an  exhaustive  knowledge  of 
the  subject  as  a  whole.  But  constant  watchfulness  will 
then  be  necessary,  lest  an  essential  relation  between  the 
department  under  treatment  and  those  left  out  of  sight 

1  See  Dr.  Holmes's  Memoir  <>/'  Motley  and  Trevelyan's  Macaulay. 


THE    DISCUSSION — GENERAL    RULES.  289 

escape  attention.  De  Ouincey's  and  Herbert  Spencer's 
essays  on  Style  are  examples  of  work  good  as  far  as  it 
goes,  but  misleading  because  it  is  incomplete. 

353-  (3)  F°r  certain  specific  purposes,  partial  knowl- 
edge is  often  sufficient.  For  example,  to  show  that 
Phonetic  Spelling  will  or  will  not  overthrow  the  etymo- 
logical basis  of  the  English  language,  one  need  not  have 
as  much  knowledge  of  the  proposed  "  Reform"  as  would 
be  requisite,  were  the  question  that  of  the  merits  or  the 
demerits  of  the  system  as  a  substitute  for  the  received 
spelling. 

354.  In  all  cases,  however,  there  must  be  at  least  as 
much  knowledge  of  a  subject  as  is  necessary  to  bring 
that  subject,  in  the  form  in  which  its  treatment  is  pro- 
posed, fully  before  the  writer's  mind.  Preparation  less 
than  this  is  superficial :  more  may  actually  be  a  hin- 
drance ;  for  the  mind,  like  the  eve,  may  read  itself  blind. 
Thus,  a  study  of  Shakspere's  Hamlet  for  the  purpose  of 
illustrating  the  state  of  the  English  language  at  a  certain 
epoch,  must  include  whatever  is  necessary  to  accomplish 
this  purpose  :  but  anything  more  would  be  out  of  unity. 
The  author  not  only  may  be  a  specialist  :  he  often  must 
be.  On  the  other  hand,  comparatively  defined  ques- 
tions may  require  painfully  extended  work.  The  text 
of  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales  offers  a  diligent  scholar 
work  for  many  years. 
19 


290  INVENTION. 

II. 
THE    MODES    OF    DISCUSSION. 

355.  The  second  factor  in  determining  the  matter  of  a 
composition  is  the  purpose  of  the  writer;1  and  this,  as  it 
is  always  to  communicate  thought,  must  be  to  address 
primarily  and  chiefly  either  the  Understanding,  the 
Feelings,  or  the  Will.'1  An  address  to  the  understand- 
ing, however,  may  present  either  an  intuition,  a  percep- 
tion, a  conception — in  other  words,  a  term — or  else  a 
judgment,  a  comparison  of  terms.2     Hence,  four  Modes 

of  Discussion  ; — (I.)  Explanation,  which  sets  forth  the 
nature  of  Terms;  (II.)  Argument,  which  deals  with 
Judgments ;  (III.)  Excitation,  which  seeks  to  arouse 
the  Feelings ;  and  (IV.)  Persuasion,  which  aims  at  in- 
fluencing the  Will.* 

356.  Moreover,  these  four  Modes  of  Discussion  are  related  to 
each  other  in  the  order  stated  ;  and,  when  two  or  more  of  them 
occur  in  the  same  composition,  they  must  stand  in  this  order, 
except  in  certain  cases  to  be  noted  below.  A  very  little  reflection 
will  prove  the  truth  of  this ;  for  terms  can  not  be  compared,  until 
they  are  understood,  and  appeals  to  the  feelings  or  the  will 
can  be  successful,  in  minds  that  are  properly  constituted,  only 
after  the  judgment,  is  convinced.  Moreover,  the  will  is  most 
commonly  to  be  reached  only  through  the  feelings  ;  and  even 
in  those  cases  in  which  the  feelings  are  appealed  to,  before  the 
judgment  is  convinced,  or  contrary  to  conviction,  the  under- 
standing must  be  at  least  so  far  touched  as  to  bring  the  object 
of  the  feeling  (or  something  that  is  falsely  affirmed  to  be  that 
object)  clearly  before  the  mind  addressed. 

357.  The  positive  processes  just  described  include,  also,  their 
opposites,  or  negatives, — the  replacement  of  a  false  notion  or 
judgment  by  the  truth,  the  allaying  of  feelings  already  excited, 
and  the  changing  of  a  determination  already  reached. 

358.  In  practice,  the  processes  of  Explanation,  Argument, 
etc.,  can  never  be  carried  on  strictly  alone.     Even  when  the 

1 1  35°.  above.  -  H  5,  6,  above.  8  \  75,  above. 


EXPLANATION.  291 

purpose  of  the  composition  is  only  one  or  another  of  the  four 
possible,  the  others  may  be  more  or  less  involved.  Thus, 
Explanation  often  brings  on  Argument ;  nothing  (or  but  little)  is 
ever  accomplished  with  uninterested  or  inattentive  hearers  ;  and 
neither  powerful  arguments  nor  seductive  motives  suffice  to 
enlighten  the  ignorant  or  to  remove  prejudices. 

(I.)  Explanation. 

359.  Explanation — from  the  Latin  planus,  level,  plain 
— is  the  process  of  making  intelligible  the  nature  or  the 
meaning  of  an  object  or  a  word.  It  includes,  also,  the 
converse  process  of  removing  obscurity  from  objects  or 
words.  Another  term  for  the  same  thing  is  Exposition; 
but  this  word  is  more  formal  and  technical  than  Expla- 
nation, and  therefore  less  available  for  use  here.  In  this 
use,  Explanation  has  the  same  sense  as  that  which  it  has 
in  everyday  life — the  setting  out  of  what  a  thing  is,  or 
what  a  word  means. 

360.  The  Theme  in  Explanation  is  always  a  noun,  the 
name  of  an  object  of  thought.  It  is  presented  intelli- 
gibly to  another  mind,  only  when  it  is  shown  1.  clearly, 
and  2.  distinctly ;  that  is,  1.  when  it  is  separated  from 
all  other  objects,  (as  man  from  horse,  dog,  etc.,)  and  2. 
when  its  ozvn  separate  parts  are  plainly  set  forth,  (as  man 
in  his  essential  attributes — rationality,  mortality,  etc.  ;  in 
his  component  parts — head,  trunk,  limbs,  etc. ;  or  in 
other  such  details.) 

361.  The  difference  between  clear  and  distinct  presentation 
is  aptly  illustrated  by  a  familiar  occurrence  at  dusk.  On  a  lawn 
planted  with  trees  and  bushes,  and  ornamented,  perhaps,  with 
statuary,  a  distant  object  is  seen  that  resembles  a  man,  but 
which  may  be  a  bush  or  a  statue.  On  closer  inspection  it 
proves  to  be  a  bush,  The  object  is  then  clear,  for  it  is  entirely 
separated  from  all  other  objects.  But  a  yet  narrower  examina- 
tion shows  the  bush  to  be  a  closely  trimmed  evergreen,  easily 
mistaken,  at  a  distance  and  in  the  dark,  for  a  statue  or  a  man. 
Now  the  object  is  distinct;  not  only  its  class,  but  its  essential 
features  as   of  that  class,  are  fully  made  out.     Similarly,  the 


292  INVENTION. 

traveller  in  the  Tyrol  spies  at  a  distance  an  object  perched  on 
the  highest  point  of  a  rock.  At  first  it  seems  to  be  but  the  top- 
most crag  of  a  ragged  mass  of  hill ;  but,  as  the  road  comes 
nearer,  the  object  is  plainly  an  animal.  Next,  it  is  a  chamois  ; 
and  the  delighted  tourist  thinks  he  has  seen  a  real  example  of 
the  now  rare,  if  not  extinct,  mountain  goat.  Alas  !  on  coming 
closer,  his  chamois  is  indeed  a  chamois,  but  one  carved  from 
the  solid  stone,  and  set  by  some  clever  hands  on  an  almost 
inaccessible  pinnacle  of  rock. 

362.  The  intelligible  presentation  of  an  object  of 
thought  proceeds  by  two  means, — 1.  Definition,  2. 
Explanation  Proper.  Definition  (from  the  Latin  de, 
from,  and  finis,  a  limit,  or  boundary)  presents  the  object 
clearly,  separating  it  from  all  other  objects,  and  setting 
its  limits  or  boundaries.  Explanation  Proper  presents 
an  object  distinctly,  exhibiting  it  in  its  several  parts,  and 
giving  a  full  account  of  these  parts  by  one  or  more  of 
several  subordinate  processes  to  be  described  below. 

1.  Definition. 

363.  The  most  exact  Definition  is  that  of  a  species 
by  its  genus  and  differentia?  the  so-called  "logical 
definition. ' '     For  example;  — 

Species.  Differentia.  Genus. 

(mutilate2  mammal, 

rational  animal. 

364.  But  logical  definition  is  often  impossible.  Either 
the  genus  to  which  an  object  belongs  or  its  differentia  is  not 
known,  and  the  definition  is  thus  left  incomplete.  Many 
simple  ideas,  color,  beauty,  goodness;'  life,  etc.,  defy  defini- 
tion. So,  no  one  has  ever  told  the  world  what  electricity  is. 
In  such  cases,  other  modes  of  definition  must  be  used  ; — 

(1)  Division  or  Partition* ;  as,  The  animal  kingdom  consists 
of   Radiates,    Mollusks,    Articulates,    and   Vertebrates ;    The 

1 1  370,  below.  2  Having  fins  instead  of  legs. 

3  At  water,  Logic,  p.  76.  4g  366,  below. 


DEFINITION.  293 

prismatic  colors  are  red,  orange,  yellow,  green,  blue,  indigo, 
violet;  (2)  Colligation,  the  reverse  of  (1)  ;  (3)  Substitution  of 
narrative  or  descriptive  phrases  or  of  symbols  or  names  ;  as, 
Wisdom  leads  to  virtue  and  happiness  ;  Religion  is  piety  ;x  (4) 
The  Method  for  Individual  Objects ;  as,  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
the  president  of  the  United  States  who  issued  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation. — By  the  last  method,  the  individual  is  assigned  to 
its  species,  as  if  this  were  a  genus,  and  some  distinguishing  marl; 
is  taken  as  differentia.  Such  definitions  are  most  like  logical 
definitions. 

365.  Definition  is  controlled  by  certain  general  prin- 
ciples, of  the  first  importance  in  composition  ; 2 — 

(1)  A  definition  should  be  co-extensive  with  the  objects 
included  in  the  term  defined  :  otherwise  it  is  too  broad  or 
too  narrow.  For  example,  to  define  a  horse  as  an  animal 
implies  that  all  animals  are  horses ;  to  define  an  animal  as  a 
horse  implies  that  nothing  not  a  horse  is  an  animal.  Of  course, 
exposition  by  exemplification,— setting  forward  the  horse  as  a 
type  in  certain  respects  of  all  animals, — is  perfectly  legitimate  ;3 
but  it  is  not  definition.  (2)  Negative  definitions,  except  of  nega- 
tive words  and  conceptions,  are  useless.  Thus,  Men  are  not 
birds  is  perfectly  useless  as  a  definition.  (3)  Definitions  "  in  a 
circle,"  or  "in  vague,  ambiguous,  or  senseless  language," 
should  be  avoided  ;  as,  Life  is  the  vital  force  ;  Poetry  is  the  stuff 
of  which  our  life  is  made.  (4)  A  single  surplus  word  in  a 
definition  may  imply  a  falsehood.  For  example,  The  opposite 
sides  of  a  parallelogram  are  parallel  and  equal} 

2.  Explanation  Proper. 

366.  Explanation  Proper  involves  one  or  more  of  six 
processes; — 5 

(1)  Narration,  "the  relation  of  the  particulars  of  any  trans- 
action or  event,  or  of  any  series  of  transactions  or  events  ;  "  6  as, 
the  story  of  a  battle,  a  campaign,  etc.  ; 

(2)  Description,  the  enumeration  of  the  essential  qualities  of 
a  thing  or  species  ;  as,  a  sketch  (in  language)  of  a  battle-field, 
an  account  of  a  chemical  substance,  etc.  ; 

1  Atwater,  p.  79.  "  Atwater,  pp.  73  ff.  3§  366  (5),  below. 

4  Appendix,  p.  329.  s  Day,  i  73.  6  Webster's  Dictionary,  1864. 


294  INVENTION. 

(3)  Division,  the  separation  of  a  class  into  its  specific  parts ; 
as,  animals  into  radiates,  nwllusks,  etc.  ;  1 

(4)  Partition,  the  separation  of  an  individual  into  its  com- 
ponent parts  ;  as,  a  ship  into  sails,  masts,  hull,  etc.  ; 

(5)  Exemplification,  the  exhibiting  of  a  member  or  of  certain 
members  of  a  class  as  representing-  the  whole  class  ;  for  exam- 
ple, the  horse  as  representing  #//  animals  ; 

(6)  Comparison  and  Contrast,  the  exhibiting  of  an  object  by 
citing  the  resemblances  or  the  differences  between  it  and  another 
object  or  other  objects  of  the  same  class  ;  as,  Christ's  parable 
of  the  sown  seed  and  the  spoken  word ;  St.  Paul's  antithesis 
between  faith  and  works. 

367.  The  distinction  between  Division  and  Partition  is  most 
clearly  made  by  Dr.  Atwater.2  The  divisum  (the  class  divided) 
can  always  be  predicated  of  each  of  its  subordinate  classes;  as, 
All  radiates  are  animals:  the  partitum  (the  individual  separ- 
ated into  its  component  parts)  can  not  be  predicated  of  one  of 
these  parts.  Sails  are  not  a  ship ;  only  the  sum  total  of  the  com- 
ponent parts  makes  the  partitum} 

368.  Of  the  six  processes  defined  in  §  366,  Narration 
and  Description,  though  they  present  the  object  through 
its  parts,  present  it  as  a  whole;  Division  and  Partition, 
on  the  other  hand,  exhibit  the  parts  as  parts ;  while  Ex- 
emplification and  Comparison  and  Contrast  set  forth  a 
characteristic  part  (or  parts)  as  a  means  to  desired 
knowledge.  The  six  processes,  therefore,  are  in  one 
view  three  pairs  of  processes,  and  will  first  be  so  dis- 
cussed. Further  remarks  on  them  as  single  processes 
will  follow. 

369.  (1)  Narration  and  Description  are  (to  borrow  a 
Greek  word)  antistroftfnc :  where  each  is  weakest,  the 
other  is  most  strongs  (a)  A  narrative  details  at  length 
a  course  of  events,  shows  a  series  of  dissolving  views; 
presents  ever  changing  scenery ; — functions  that  lan- 
guage is  especially  fitted  to  perform.  A  description,  on 
the  other  hand,  exhibits  a  state  of  things,  photographs 

1 1  364  (1),  above.  s  Logic,  pp.  71  ff. 

3  On  this  point  Day  is  wrong,  and  is  not  followed  here. 


EXPLANATION    PROPER.  295 

its  object  at  a  definite  moment  of  time  and  in  a  fixed 
expression,  offers  to  view  scenery  that  is  always  the 
same ; — functions  fulfilled  by  language  only  with  difficulty 
and  when  used  by  a  master ;  for  the  picture  that  a  de- 
scription would  call  up  can  be  only  suggested  in  words, 
can  not  be  fully  exhibited,  (b)  The  historian,  however, 
has  a  multitude  of  details  to  set  forth,  details  that  are 
often  complicated  to  a  high  degree  and  perplexing  to 
both  writer  and  reader ;  while  the  necessary  length  of  a 
narrative,  (for  it  must  tell  everything,  and  that  com- 
pletely,) often  endangers  its  success.  In  a  connected 
story,  subsequent  details,  intelligible  only  in  the  light  of 
those  that  have  preceded  them,  fail  to  produce  their 
desired  effect,  if  the  preceding  details  have  been  for- 
gotten ;  while,  if  the  narrative  repeats  itself  at  these 
critical  points,  it  becomes  prolix.  The  ' '  word-painter, ' ' 
on  the  other  hand,  has  fewer  details  to  exhibit ;  these 
details  are  commonly  less  complicated,  and  therefore,  less 
perplexing  ;  while  the  necessary  (certainly,  the  desirable) 
brevity  of  a  description  enables  even  a  hearer  to  keep  it 
well  in  hand.  Words,  it  has  been  said,  can  only  suggest 
a  picture :  hence,  in  a  description,  they  need  never  be 
many,  if  well-chosen,  (r)  For  this  reason,  Narration  is 
especially  the  work  of  the  writer ;  Description,  of  the 
painter  or  the  sculptor.  Language  has  its  limitations, 
just  as  painting  and  sculpture  have  theirs.1  But  it  is 
important  not  to  infer  too  much.  Just  as  a  picture  may 
suggest  a  long  story,  if  a  critical  point  in  the  tale  be 
taken  for  representation,  so  description  may  be  effected 
in  words,  if  the  words  are  aptly  chosen.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  phrases  "word-painting"  and  "historical  pic- 
ture," unless  understood  in  a  very  moderate  sense,  are 
actual  contradictions  in  terms, — too  often  the  cant  of 
men  who  forget  that  the  chief  excellence  of  a  composition 
is  its  expressing  worthy  thought,  not  its  bearing  tawdry 

1 5  S.  above. 


296  INVENTION. 

ornaments,  and  who  believe  (or  affect  to  believe)  that  a 
page  may  glow  like  the  canvas  of  a  Tintoretto,  a  canvas 
read  like  a  page  from  Macaulay. 

370.  (2)  Division  and  Partition  must  be  carefully  dis- 
tinguished. The  one  is  applied  to  classes  of  objects  ;  the 
other,  to  individual  objects.  Classes  are  either  genera 
(higher  classes)  or  species  (lower  classes)  ;  the  essen- 
tial difference  or  differences  between  any  species  and  its 
nearest  genus  constituting  its  differentia.  Of  course,  the 
same  class  may  be  at  once  genus  to  a  species  below  it 
and  species  to  a  genus  above  it.  Natural  historians, 
philologists,  many  writers  on  subjects  that  require  and 
admit  of  systematic  classifications,  have  used  other  terms, 
Kingdom,  Class,  Order,  Variety,  Family,  Group,  etc.; 
but  these  are  nothing  more  than  genera  or  species, 
according  to  the  relationships  in  which  they  stand. 

371.  (3)  Exemplification  and  Comparison  and  Con- 
trast agree  in  always  presenting  single  parts  of  objects. 
Further,  Contrast  is  only  Comparison  by  negatives;  so 
that  the  double  process  of  Comparison  and  Contrast  is, 
in  fact,  but  one  process, — a  double  mode  of  Explanation, 
not  two  separate  modes.  Of  course,  in  all  cases,  objects 
compared  must  be  also  different,  objects  contrasted  must 
be  also  alike.  Otherwise,  the  objects  in  the  one  case 
would  be  the  same,  in  the  other  case  utterly  without 
relationship.  The  ground  of  the  process  is  in  the  part 
or  parts  that  the  objects  have  in  common. 

(1.)  Narration. 

372.  A  narrative  may  follow  (a)  the  strict  order  of 
time,  (b)  the  order  of  change  in  the  subject  (c)  that  of  cause 
and  effect;  and,  though  the  several  forms  may  be  united 
in  the  same  composition,  one  or  another  will  predominate 
and  give  character  to  the  narrative.  History  of  the  first 
form  is  Chronicles  or  Annals ;  of  the  second  form,  Proper 
History;  of  the  third  form^  Philosophical -History.    Proper 


NARRATION.  297 

History  (5)  rests  upon  (#),  and  both  it  and  (a)  are  pre- 
supposed in  (c).  Further,  as  (a)  is  the  form  natural  to 
the  narratives  of  children,  so  it  is  the  form  of  the  earliest 
histories  ;  and  as  (6)  and  (r)  correspond  to  a  proportion- 
ate mental  development,  so  they  are  the  forms  of  later 
and  the  latest  histories.  As  examples,  Prof.  Day  cites 
Herodotus,  Gibbon,  and  Guizot :  other  examples,  and 
all  of  histories  of  Greece,  are  Thucydides,  Grote,  and 
Curtius. 

373.  In  any  form,  Narration  obeys  the  following  laws, 
extensions  of  Canon  (2)  of  the  Whole  Composition  ; ' — 

374.  (a)  The  events  narrated  must  commonly  be  set  forth  in 
the  order  chosen,  whether  of  time,  of  change,  or  of  cause  and 
effect. 

375.  But  («)  "A  recent  state  of  things  more  familiar  to  the 
persons  addressed,"  may  be  first  exhibited,  and  then  "the 
previous  steps  by  which  that  state  was  arrived  at. ' '  The  history 
of  Language  is  a  notable  example  of  this  law.  The  philologist 
begins  with  what  is  about  him,  and,  from  this  present,  by  a 
careful  comparison  of  its  several  parts  with  one  another,  con- 
structs the  past.  So,  Morley  introduces  his  First  Sketch  of 
English  Literature  with  the  following  significant  words  ; — "As 
soon  as  we  can  feel  that  we  belong'  to  a  free  country  with  a 
noble  past,  let  us  begin  to  learn  through  what  endeavours  and 
to  what  end  it  is  free.'''2 

376.  (/?)  The  complication  of  details  is  often  best  unraveled 
by  following  each  stream  of  events  as  if  it  were  a  separate 
narrative ;  care  being  taken,  however,  to  keep  the  several 
streams  united  by  bringing  on  each,  in  its  turn,  to  the  great 
epochs  of  the  story.  This  plan  is  especially  useful,  when  the 
narrative  exhibits  "a  principal  action  with  subordinates," 
several  "  concurring  streams  of  nearly  equal  importance,"  the 
state  of  parties,  or  a  "plurality  of  departments."  For  exam- 
ple, the  history  of  England  is  necessarily  complicated  by  the 
entangling  of  the  nation  in  foreign  affairs ;  and  the  reader's 
attention  must  often  be  diverted  from  England  to  the  foreign 

i§  289,  above.— As  stated  here,  the  laws  are  condensed  from  Bain's  extended 
account  of  the  proc3ss  (Am.  Ed.,  pp.  166  ff.)  Fresh  examples,  however,  have 
been  taken  in  nearly  all  cas< 

sTage  1. — The  italics  air  inserted  here. 


298  INVENTION. 

lands  concerned.  In  each  case,  the  points  of  divergence  and  of 
return  must  be  clearly  indicated,  and  every  other  means  be 
taken  to  notify  the  reader  of  the  exact  relation  held  by  the 
subordinate  story  to  its  principal.— The  history  of  the  United 
States  before  1789  must  trace  thirteen  streams  of  colonial  history 
flowing  side  by  side.— Either  English  or  American  politic;:.! 
history  is  largely  a  story  of  the  struggles  of  two  great  bodies  of 
the  people  (or  of  their  leaders  in  or  out  of  the  national  legisla- 
ture) each  to  secure  the  adoption  of  its  policy  by  the  national 
administration. — The  Departments  of  Foreign  Affairs,  of  the 
Interior,  of  the  Treasury,  etc.,  are  convenient  heads  under 
which  to  group  the  history  of  an  administration. 

377.  [b)  A  brief  summary  {risumS,  recapitulation,)  of  ante- 
cedent events  often  forms  a  proper  introduction  to  a  narrative, 
and  is  sometimes  necessary.  Thus,  Macaulay's  first  two  chap- 
ters contain  a  summary  of  English  history  from  the  Roman 
conquest  of  Britain  to  the  Death  of  Charles  II.  in  16S5 ;  Froude's 
Chapter  II.  is  concerned  with  "the  Last  Years  of  the  Adminis- 
tration of  Wolsey."  In  like  manner,  the  writer  may  stop  at 
certain  points  in  his  story  to  resurvey  the  ground  passed  over. 
Each  chapter  of  Freeman's  General  Sketch  of  History  closes 
with  a  brief  resume  of  its  contents. 

378.  (c)  A  narrative  may  consist  of  a  series  of  cross-sections 
of  the  theme,  made  at  different  epochs  of  its  existence,  con- 
nected by  a  thread  of  story,  and  each  delineated  as  a  status  quo 
rather  than  as  a  part  of  a  movement  or  action.  Or,  in  ordinary 
narrative,  such  a  cross-section  may  now  and  then  be  introduced, 
in  order  to  keep  the  reader  aware  of  the  state  of  affairs  to 
which  the  story  has  brought  him,  and  from  which  he  must  make 
a  new  start.  Froude  and  Macaulay  again  furnish  examples  ;  • 
and,  nearer  home,  Prof.  McMaster's  account  of  "the  State  of 
America  in  1784"  is  a  brilliant  specimen.'2  A  short  extract 
from  this  account  will  show  even  more  clearly  the  method 
referred  to  ; — 

'  The  Americans  who,  toward  the  close  of  1783,  celebrated 
with  bonfires,  with  cannon,  and  with  bell-ringing,  the  acknowl- 
edgement of  independence  and  the  return  of  peace,  lived  in  a 
very  different  country  from  that  with  which  their  descendants 
are  familiar.  Indeed,  could  we,  under  the  potent  influence  of 
some  magician's  drugs,  be  carried  back  through  one  hundred 

1  Kroude,  ch.  i. ;  Macaulay,  ch.  iii. 

"John  Bach  Mi. Master,  .)  History  of  the  People  of  the  United  States,  ch.  i. 


DESCRIPTION. 


299 


years,  we  should  find  ourselves  in  a  country  utterly  new  to  us. 
Rip  Van  Winkle,  who  fell  asleep  when  his  townsmen  were 
throwing  up  their  hats  and  drinking  their  bumpers  to  good 
King  George,  and  awoke  when  a  generation  that  knew  him  not 
was  shouting  the  names  of  men  and  parties  unknown  to  him, 
did  not  find  himself  in  a  land  more  strange.  The  area  of  the 
republic  would  shrink  to  less  than  half  its  present  extent.  The 
number  of  the  States  would  diminish  to  thirteen,  nor  would 
many  of  them  be  contained  in  their  present  limits  or  exhibit 
their  present  appearance.  Vast  stretches  of  upland,  which  are 
now  an  endless  succession  of  wheat  fields  and  corn  fields  and 
orchards,  would  appear  overgrown  with  dense  forests  aban- 
doned to  savage  beasts  and  yet  more  savage  men.  The  ham- 
lets of  a  few  fishermen  would  mark  the  sites  of  wealthy  havens 
now  bristling  with  innumerable  masts,  and  the  great  cities 
themselves  would  dwindle  to  dimensions  scarce  exceeding 
those  of  some  rude  settlement  far  to  the  west  of  the  Colorado 
river.  Of  the  inventions  and  discoveries  which  abridge  distance, 
which  annihilate  time,  which  extend  commerce,  which  aid  agri- 
culture, which  save  labor,  which  transmit  speech,  which  turn 
the  darkness  of  the  night  into  the  brilliancy  of  the  day,  which 
alleviate  pain,  which  destroy  disease,  which  lighten  even  the 
infirmities  of  age,  not  one  existed.  Fulton  was  still  a  portrait 
painter,  Fitch  and  Rumsey  had  not  yet  begun  to  study  the  steam- 
engine,  Whitney  had  not  yet  gone  up  to  college.  Howe  and 
Morse,  McCormick  and  Fairbanks,  Goodyear  and  Colt,  Dr. 
Morton  and  Dr.  Bell,  were  yet  to  be  born. ' ' 1 

(2.)  Description. 

379.  Description,  like  Narration,  has  three  forms  :  it 
may  exhibit  (a)  strictly  the  spacial  parts,  (b)  the  parts  of 
a  substance, — especially,  its  attributes, — as  representing 
that  substance,  (c)  the  substance  itself  in  its  relations  to 
its  parts  or  attributes.  Further,  all  three  forms  may 
concur  in  a  single  composition  ;  and  they  are  related  to 
each  other  as  are  the  corresponding  forms  of  Narration.2 

380.  The  Canon  of  Method  has  here  the  following 
applications  ; — 

*Vol.  i.p.  2.  "I  2,72,  above. 


300  INVENTION. 

381.  (a)  When  addressed  only  to  the  understanding,  when 
intended  simply  to  present  intelligible  and  (as  far  as  possible) 
complete  ideas,  without  regard  to  the  vividness  of  the  picture 
as  a  whole,  Description  may  proceed  by  a  mere  enumeration  of 
the  parts  or  attributes.  In  this  way  a  text-book  of  natural 
history  describes  animals  or  plants,  an  inventory  or  a  catalogue 
describes  the  objects  it  names,  and  even  the  didactic  poet, — 
Virgil,  for  instance, — describes  a  fine  cow  or  a  handsome  colt.1 

382.  (b)  When  addressed  to  the  imagination,  Description 
must  produce  illusion;  that  is,  it  must  call  up  a  vivid  picture  of 
the  object  described,  and  thus  enable  the  reader,  in  his  absorb- 
ing consciousness  of  the  presence  of  this  picture,  to  forget  the 
words  employed  to  summon  it.  Hence,  such  a  description  will 
always  be  brief  and  suggestive,  never  enumerative  ;  for  lan- 
guage, ill-fitted  to  description,2  embarrasses  rather  than  pro- 
motes illusion,  imprisons  rather  than  sets  free  the  imagination. 
Homer,  for  example,  portraying  the  divinely  beautiful  Helen, 
for  whose  sake  two  Greek  worlds  were  convulsed  with  strife, 
speaks  only  of  her  coming  to  the  walls  of  Troy  to  see  the  battle, 
and  of  the  impressions  her  beauty  made  on  the  old  men  who 
sat  there.     Imagination  does  the  rest.3 

"  Small  blame  is  theirs  if  both  the  Trojan  knights 
And  brazen-mailed  Achaians  have  endured 
So  long  so  many  evils  for  the  sake 
Of  that  one  woman.     She  is  wholly  like 
In  feature  to  the  deathless  goddesses."4 

"  What  can  give  a  more  vivid  idea  of  her  beauty,"  adds  Les- 
sing,  "than  that  that  cold-blooded  age  should  deem  it  well 
worth  the  war  which  had  cost  so  much  blood  and  so  many 
tears."  "Constantinus  Manasses,"  on  the  other  hand,  who 
"sought  to  adorn  his  bald  chronicle  with  a  picture  of  Helen," 
enumerates  the  points  of  her  beauty  as  might  a  colorer  of 
photographs; — "She  was  a  woman  right  beautiful,  with  fine 
eyebrows,  of  clearest  complexion,  beautiful  cheeks ;  comely, 
with  large,  full  eyes,  with  snow-white  skin,  quick-glancing, 
graceful ;  a  grove  filled  with  graces,  fair-armed,  voluptuous, 
breathing  beauty  undisguised.  The  complexion  fair,  the  cheek 
rosy,  the   countenance  pleasing,  the  eye  blooming,  a  beauty 

1  Ceorgics,  iii.  51,  79.  2§  369,  above. 

3  Barring  "  a  passing  mention  that  she  had  white  arms  and  beautiful  hair." 
(Lessing.) 

4  Iliad,  iii.  156,  translated  by  Bryant.     (Lessing,  xxi.) 


DESCRIPTION.  301 

unartificial,  untinted,  of  its  natural  color,  adding  brightness  to 
the  brightest  cherry,  as  if  one  should  dye  ivory  with  resplendent 
purple.  Her  neck  long,  of  dazzling  whiteness  ;  whence  she 
was  called  the  swan-born,  beautiful  Helen."1  The  passage 
fills  eleven  fifteen  syllabled  lines  ;  and  reading  it,  says  Lessing, 
"is  like  seeing  stones  rolled  up  a  mountain,  on  whose  summit 
they  are  to  be  built  into  a  gorgeous  edifice  ;  but  which  all  roll 
down  of  themselves  on  the  other  side.  What  picture  does  this 
crowd  of  words  leave  behind?  How  did  Helen  look  ?  No  two 
readers  out  of  a  thousand  would  receive  the  same  impression 
of  her." 

383.  (e)  Illusion  is  produced  by  mentioning  certain  individual- 
izing or  associated  circumstances,  thoughts  ox  feelings,  and  then 
leaving  the  reader  to  himself.  Thus  (as  has  been  seen)  Homer 
describes  Helen  ;  thus  Shakspere  leaves  his  readers  to  construct 
his  characters.     Of  Portia,  for  instance,  he  says  ; — 

"  In  Belmont  is  a  lady  richly  left ; 
And  she  is  fair  and,  fairer  than  that  word, 
Of  wondrous  virtues: 

Her  name  is  Portia,  nothing  undervalued 
To  Cato's  daughter,  Brutus'  Portia: 
Nor  is  the  wide  world  ignorant  of  her  worth, 
For  the  four  winds  blow  in  from  every  coast 
Renowned  suitors,  and  her  sunny  locks 
Hang  on  her  temples  like  a  golden  fleece  ; 
Which  makes  her  scat  of  Belmont  Colchos'  strand, 
And  many  Jasons  come  in  quest  of  her."  - 

Nothing  more  :  the  curious  reader  must  draw  his  lady  of 
Belmont  from  these  hints.  Even  Portia's  character  is  thus 
delineated  ; — 

"  nothing  undervalued 
To  Cato's  daughter,  Brutus'  Portia;" 

"  the  full  sum  of  me 
Is  sum  of  something,  which,  to  term  in  gross, 
Is  an  unlesson'd girl,  unschooFd,  unpractised."3 


So  Bassanio's  ambassador  is  pictured  ; — 

"  A  day  in  April  never  came  so  sweet, 
To  show  how  costly  summer  was  at  hand."4 

And  so  Edmund  is  described  in  King  Lear}    Gloucester,  Ed- 
mund's father  having  said,  "  I  have  often  blushed  to  acknowledge 

1  Cited  by  Lessing,  Laocobn,  xx. 

2  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  1.  1.  161. — Portia  elsewhere  adds  of  herself,  "By 
my  troth,  Nerissa,  my  little  body  is  aweary  of  this  great  world." 

3 III .  li.  159.  *II.  ix.93.  BI.  i.  10. 


302  INVENTION. 

him,"  Kent  replies, — "  I  can  not  wish  the  fault  undone,  the  issue 
of  it  being  so  proper."  Later,  Edmund  claims  for  himself  as 
compact  dimensions,  as  generous  a  mind,  as  true  a  shape,  as  his 
brother's,  and  even  "more  composition  and  fierce  quality  than 
go  to  the  making  of  a  whole  tribe  of  fops."  l  One  conceives  a 
handsome,  strong,  intellectually  able,  high-spirited  villain  ;  but 
Shakspere  only  starts  the  reader,  the  imagination  does  the  rest. 
3S4.  (d)  In  such  passages,  Illusion  is  dispelled  almost  by  a 
touch.  Add  but  a  word,  and  the  effect  is  spoiled ;  many 
additional  words  veil  the  picture  in  a  cloud  that  even  the  most 
vivid  imagination  can  not  penetrate.  Indeed,  when  the  con- 
ception desired  by  the  writer  is  offensive  or  horrible,  such 
additions  are  made  aforethought,  in  order  to  temper  the  other- 
wise unendurable  effect.2  Thus,  the  crook-backed  Earl  of 
Gloucester  paints  his  own  portrait  ; — 

"But  I,  that  am  not  shaped  for  sportive  tricks, 
Nor  made  to  court  an  amorous  looking-glass  ; 
I  that  am  rudely  stamp'd,  and  want  love's  majesty 
To  strut  before  a  wanton  ambling  nymph  ; 
I,  that  am  curtail'd  of  this  fair  proportion, 
Cheated  of  feature  by  dissembling  nature, 
Deform'd,  unfinish'd,  sent  before  my  time 
Into  this  breathing  world,  scarce  half  made  up 
And  that  so  lamely  and  unfashionable, 
That  dogs  bark  at  me  as  I  halt  by  them  ; 
Why,  I,  in  this  weak  piping  time  of  peace, 
Have  no  delight  to  pass  away  the  time 
Unless  to  spy  my  shadow  in  the  sun 
And  descant  on  mine  own  deformity."  3 

The  words  in  italics  alone  help  the  reader  to  conjure  up  the 
monster  whose  crimes  form  the  story  of  the  play  :  the  rest 
serve  only  to  break  the  otherwise  offensive  impression. 

385.  (r)  Hence,  the  failure  of  many  descriptions  in  novels 
and  poems.  At  best  they  are  but  faithful  copies  of  their  origi- 
nals, interesting  enough  as  such,  but  destitute  of  the  picturesque. 
At  other  times,  they  fall  as  flat  as  a  handbill  announcing  the 
personal  details  of  a  lost  child  or  a  stray  horse.  Most  readers 
skip  them,  impatient  of  the  delay  they  cause  ;  and  this,  although 
a  wide-spread  opinion  of  their  excellence  inclines  these  readers 
to  believe  themselves  guilty  in  so  doing.  Mr.  R.  D.  Blackmore, 
for  example,  is  famed  for  his  descriptions  both  of  forest  and  of 
sea-shore  scenery.  Yet  even  with  really  suggestive  descriptions 
he  mixes  dreary  inventories.    Nowelhurst  Hall,  as  a  house  "too 

1A'iiig  /.car,  I.  ii.  7.  sLcssing,  xxiii.  a  Richard  III.,  I.  i.  14. 


DESCRIPTION.  303 

respectable  for  any  loose  doings  of  any  sort,"  or  as  the  pro- 
spective home  of  the  retired  seaman,  sets  the  reader's  imagina- 
tion to  work  ;  but  what  of  the  rest  of  this  paragraph  ? 

"  Nowelhurst  Hall  looks  too  respectable  for  any  loose  doings 
of  any  sort.  It  stands  well  away  from  the  weeping  of  trees, 
like  virtue  shy  of  sentiment,  and  therefore  has  all  the  wealth  of 
foliage  shed,  just  where  it  pleases,  around  it.  From  a  rising 
ground  the  house  has  sweet  view  of  all  the  forest  changes,  and 
has  seen  three  hundred  springs  wake  in  glory,  and  three  hun- 
dred autumns  waning.  Spreading  away  from  it  wider,  wider 
slopes  'the  chase,'  as  they  call  it,  with  great  trees  stretching 
paternal  arms  in  the  vain  attempt  to  hold  it.  For  two  months  of 
the  twelve,  when  the  heather  is  in  blossom,  all  that  chase  is  a 
glowing  reach  of  amaranth  and  purple.  Then  it  fades  away  to 
pale  orange,  dim  olive,  and  a  rusty-brown  when  Christmas 
shudders  over  it ;  and  so  throughout  young  green  and  russet, 
till  the  July  tint  comes  back  again.  Sometimes  in  the  spring 
morning  the  black  cocks — •' heathpoults, '  as  they  call  them — 
lift  their  necks  in  the  livening  heather,  swell  their  ruffling 
breasts,  and  crow  for  their  rivals  to  spar  with  them.  Below  the 
chase  the  whiskers  of  the  curling  wood  converge  into  a  giant 
beard,  tufted  here  and  there  with  views  of  a  varying  richness  ; 
but  for  the  main  of  it,  swelling  and  waving,  crisping,  fronding, 
feathering,  coving,  and  darkening  here  and  there,  until  it  reach 
the  silver  mirror  of  the  spreading  sea.  And  the  seaman,  look- 
ing upwards  from  the  war-ship  bound  for  India,  looking  back 
at  his  native  land,  for  the  last  of  all  times  it  may  be,  over  brush- 
wood waxes,  and  billows  of  trees,  and  the  long  heave  of  the 
gorse-land  :  'Now,  that's  the  sort  of  place,'  he  says,  as  the 
distant  gables  listen  :  'the  right  sort  of  berth  for  our  jolly  old 
admiral,  and  me  for  his  butler,  please  God,  when  we've  licked 
them  Crappos  as  they  desarves.'  "  1 

So,  writers  of  a  far  higher  reputation  err  in  the  same  way  ; — 
"The  Faun  is  the  marble  image  of  a  young  man,  leaning  his 
right  arm  on  the  trunk  or  stump  of  a  tree  ;  one  hand  hangs 
carelessly  by  his  side  ;  in  the  other  he  holds  the  fragment  of  a 
pipe,  or  some  such  sylvan  instrument  of  music.  His  only 
garment — a  lion's  skin,  with  the  claws  upon  his  shoulder — falls 
halfway  down  his  back,  leaving  the  limbs  and  entire  front  of 
the  figure  nude.  The  form,  thus  displayed,  is  marvellously 
graceful,  but  has  a  fuller  and  more  rounded  outline,  more  flesh, 
1  Cradock  Nowell,  ch.  1. 


304  INVENTION. 

and  less  of  heroic  muscle  than  the  old  sculptors  were  wont  to 
assign  to  their  types  of  masculine  beauty.  The  character  of 
the  face  corresponds  with  the  figure  ;  it  is  most  agreeable  in 
outline  and  features,  but  rounded  and  somewhat  voluptuously 
developed,  especially  about  the  throat  and  chin  ;  the  nose  is 
almost  straight,  but  very  slightly  curves  inward,  thereby- 
acquiring  an  indescribable  charm  of  geniality  and  humor.  The 
mouth,  with  its  full  yet  delicate  lips,  seems  so  nearly  to  smile 
outright,  that  it  calls  forth  a  responsive  smile.  The  whole 
statue — unlike  anything  else  that  ever  was  wrought  in  that 
severe  material  of  marble— conveys  the  idea  of  an  amiable  and 
sensual  creature,  easy,  mirthful,  apt  for  jollity,  yet  not  incapable 
of  being  touched  by  pathos.  It  is  impossible  to  gaze  long  at 
this  stone  image  without  conceiving  a  kindly  sentiment  towards 
it,  as  if  its  substance  were  warm  to  the  touch,  and  imbued  with 
actual  life.  It  comes  very  close  to  some  of  our  pleasantest 
sympathies."1 

What  idea  does  one  who  has  never  heard  of  a  faun  get  of  this 
statue  ?  And  does  not  each  man  who  has  heard  of  and  con- 
ceived a  faun  simply  replace  the  printed  words  with  his  own 
previously  imagined  idea  ?  Such  descriptions  may  sometimes 
be  necessary  ; 2  but  they  add  nothing  to  the  novel  as  a  work  of 
art. 

386.  Even  though  most  strongly  tempted  to  inventory-descrip- 
tion, one  writer3  has  set  a  good  example  in  resisting  the 
temptation  ; — 

"  But,  after  all,  the  great  wonder,  the  glory,  of  these  Pompeian 
houses  is  in  their  frescoes.  If  I  tried  to  give  an  idea  of  the 
luxury  of  color  in  Pompeii,  the  most  gorgeous  adjectives  would 
be  as  poorly  able  to  reproduce  a  vivid  and  glowing  sense  of 
those  hues  as  the  photography  which  now  copies  the  drawing 
of  the  decorations  ;  so  I  do  not  try." 

387.  {/)  Descriptions  of  the  "inventory"  kind,  however,  are 
useful  in  many  subjects,  and  often"  necessary.  They  properly 
begin  with  an  outline,  (comprehensive  statement,  general  plan,) 
the  details  of  which  are  to  be  filled  in  afterwards.  This  outline 
may  even  rise  to  the  picturesque  ;  for  it  may  serve,  as  does  the 
plate  that  accompanies  and  illustrates  the  text,  to  present  the 
description  as  a  whole.  For  example,  Hawthorne,  in  the 
passage  quoted  above,  doubtless  believed  a  detailed  picture  of 

1  Hawthorne,  The  Marble  Faun,  ch.  i.  2§  3S7,  below. 

3W.  D.  Howells,  Italian  Journeys,  p.  99. 


DESCRIPTION.  305 

the  Faun  necessary  ;  as,  equally  without  doubt,  he  believed  the 
many  descriptions  of  his  romance  essential  to  its  local  coloring. 
But,  to  lighten  the  reader's  task,  he  sets  out  the  object  fully  in 
his  first  sentence, — "the  marble  image  of  a  young  man  .  .  . 
figure  nude," — and  then  fills  in  the  details.  Indeed,  it  is  only 
these  first  sentences  that  aid  the  imagination  :  the  rest  may 
address  the  understanding,  but  they  add  nothing,  perhaps,  to 
the  picture.  So,  in  the  following  description  of  a  portrait  of 
Edmund  Spenser,1  the  writer  possibly  had  no  alternative  ;  but 
it  may  be  questioned  how  far  an  artist  painting  from  this  de- 
scription would  reproduce  the  original  ; — 

"  Short  curling  hair,  a  full  moustache,  cut  after  the  pattern 
of  Lord  Leicester's,  close-clipped  beard,  heavy  eyebrows,  and 
under  them  thoughtful  brown  eyes,  whose  upper  eyelids  weigh 
them  dreamily  down  ;  a  long  and  straight  nose,  strongly  devel- 
oped, answering  to  a  long  and  somewhat  spare  face,  with  a  well- 
formed  sensible-looking  forehead ;  a  mouth  almost  obscured 
by  the  moustache,  but  still  showing  rather  full  lips,  denoting 
feeling,  well  set  together,  so  that  the  warmth  of  feeling  shall 
not  run  riot,  with  a  touch  of  sadness  in  them." 

38S.  (g)  Where  a  picture  is  too  extended  for  presentation  on 
a  single  canvas, $. succession  of  views  may  be  brought  forward, 
a  sort  of  panorama  or  series  of  dissolving  views.  This  method 
of  description  has  been  aptly  called  "the  traveller's  point  of 
view,'"  and  is  much  used.  Its  advantage  is  in  its  combining 
the  vividness  of  picturesque  description  with  the  special  fitness 
of  language  to  narrate.  The  plan  has  been  successfully 
pursued  by  M.  Taine  in  his  Tour  through  the  Pyrenees  ; — 

"The  carriage  leaves  Eaux-Bonnes  at  dawn.  The  sun  is 
scarcely  yet  risen,  and  is  still  hidden  by  the  mountains.  Pale 
rays  begin  to  color  the  mosses  on  the  western  declivity.  These 
mosses,  bathed  in  dew,  seem  as  if  awakening  under  the  first 
caress  of  the  day.  Rosy  hues,  of  an  inexpressible  softness, 
rest  on  the  summits,  then  steal  down  along  the  slopes.  One 
could  never  have  believed  that  these  gaunt  old  creatures  were 
capable  of  an  expression  so  timid  and  so  tender.  The  light 
broadens,  heaven  expands,  the  air  is  filled  with  joy  and  life.  A 
bald  peak  in  the  midst  of  the  rest,  and  darker  than  they, 
stands  out  in  an  aureole  of  flame.  All  at  once,  between  two 
serrate  points,  like  a  dazzling  arrow,  streams  the  first  ray  of 
the  sun." 

■G.  W.  Kitchin,  Clarendon  Tress  Edition  of  Spenser's  Faery  Queene. 
20 


306  INVENTION. 

Subsequent  sections  describe  the  country  beyond  Pan,  and 
the  towns  of  Coarraze,  Lestelle  with  its  chapel,  Saint  Pe,  and 
Lourdes.  Here  and  there  appears  a  thread  of  narrative,  like 
the  first  sentence  in  the  paragraph  quoted  ;  but  oftenerthe  mere 
mention  of  a  new  place  keeps  up  the  sense  of  movement. 

3S9.  (//)  Description  is  often  involved  in  other  kinds  of  com- 
position. A  narrative  may  be  simply  a  string  of  bead-like 
descriptions  upon  a  slender  thread  of  story  ;  an  argument  may 
be  rendered  more  convincing  by  a  vivid  presentation  of  the 
scenes  to  which  reference  is  made ;  while,  in  appeals  to  the 
feelings  or  efforts  to  arouse  the  will,  descriptions  of  the  objects 
of  feeling  or  of  the  ends  proposed  often  constitute  the  whole 
work.  Examples  are  Taine's  Pyrenees,  just  cited;  Webster's 
well-known  description  of  the  murder  of  Mr.  White,  at  Salem, 
Mass.  ;  and  his  notable  (but  less  known)  picture  of  the  "few 
old,  gray-headed,  poor,  and  broken  warriors  of  the  Revolu- 
tion "  who  appealed  to  Congress  in  1828  for  relief  in  their 
decrepitude. 

(3)  Division. 

390.  Division  is  governed  by  the  following  laws,1  ap- 
plications of  Canons  (1),  (2)  and  (4),  §  289  ; — 

(a)  It  must  proceed  from  the  given  genus  to  the  species 
immediately  below, — from  proximate  genus  to  proximate 
species.  For  example,  animals  are  properly  divided  into 
vertebrates,  articulates,  etc. ;  each  of  these  sub-kingdoms  into 
its  classes;  each  class  into  its  orders;  and  so  on.  A  di- 
vision into  men,  fishes,  reptiles,  etc.,  would  be  scientifically 
useless. 

(b)  There  must  be  but  one  principle  of  division  ;  though  the 
same  divisum  may  often  be  classified  successively  upon  several 
different  principles.  Thus,  a  library  cannot  be  arranged  at  once 
by  subject,  size,  and  cost ;  though  all  the  books  it  contains  may 
be  successively  arranged  by  each  of  these  distinctions. 

(c)  The  classes  obtained  must  be  mutually  exclusive,  and,  of 
course,  will  be,  if  rule  (b)  is  strictly  applied.  Otherwise,  they 
overlap,  and  the  mind  is  puzzled  rather  than  aided  by  the 
attempt  at  explanation.  Thus  to  classify  men  as  Jews,  Moham- 
medans,  and  Believers  in  God  would  be  faulty,  since  both  Jews 
and  Mohammedans  are  also  believers  in  the  true  God. 

1  Atwater,  Logic. 


DIVISION. — EXEMPLIFICATION.  307 

(d)  The  sum  of  all  the  parts  should  exactly  equal  the  division. 
For  example,  the  sum  of  the  classes  organic  and  inorganic 
substances  exactly  equals  the  divisum  chemicals.—  This  rule  is 
simply  an  extension  of  rule  (b). 

(e)  Division  a  priori,  (into  one  class  and  its  inevitable  con- 
tradictory; e.g.,  partridges  and  not-partridges,)  is  "a  com- 
pletely useless  division."  A  useful  division  presents  all  the 
classes  needed  to  exhibit  the  theme.  At  the  same  time,  a 
convenient  designation  for  a  number  of  objects  or  even  a 
number  of  classes  often  results  from  an  a  priori  division. 
Thus,  the  terms  non-metals,  invertebrates,  etc.  are  valuable 
designations,  however  useless  as  heads  of  a  classification. 

(4)  Partition. 

391.  The  laws  of  Partition  are  the  same  as  those  of 
Division  except  rule  (a).  For  example,  to  distribute  the 
component  parts  of  Man  into  head,  limbs,  and  mental  or 
moral  faculties ;  to  assign  his  liver  and  his  heart  to  the 
class  entrails,  but  his  kidneys  to  another  class,  members ; 
to  omit  any  of  his  component  parts  ;  or  to  describe  him 
as  made  up  of  feet  or  hands  and  all  his  other  parts ; — 
Each  would  be  an  invalid  partition. 

(5)  Exemplification. 

392.  As  a  means  to  Explanation,  examples  must  be, — 

(a)  Intelligible  or  even  familiar  to  the  persons  addressed  ; 
as,  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  a  child's  home  by  way  of 
teaching  him  Geography,  political  or  physical ; 

(b)  Enough  in  number  to  relieve  all  difficulties,  and  to  cover 
every  point  of  the  subject  to  be  explained  ;  as  a  mere  handful 
of  words  to  show  how  the  addition  of  s  forms  the  usual  Eng- 
lish plural ;  but  many  and  carefully  chosen  sentences  to  exhibit 
the  nature  of  English  syntax  ; 

(c)  Simple  at  first,  if  possible;  more  complicated  afterwards, 
if  necessary  ;  as,  the  ordinary  suction-pump  by  way  of  prelimi- 
nary description  of  the  steam-engine  ;  many  and  more  intricate 
examples  by  way  of  detailed  illustration  of  its  construction; 

(d)  Free  from  all  distracting  circumstances  ;  as,  wholesome, 
natural   stories  in  illustration  of  right  living,  not   sentimental 


308  INVENTION. 

or  even  sensational  love-tales  that  debauch  the  intellect  while 
they  fail  either  to  arouse  the  feelings  or  to  stimulate  the  will.1 

393.  In  systematic  treatises,  examples  must  usually  follow  the 
rules  or  principles  they  explain  ;  but  they  may  often  and  with 
advantage  stand  first,  arousing  the  reader's  curiosity  and 
stimulating  his  mind  to  unwonted  effort.  Thus,  long  before  a 
child  can  conceive  the  idea  noun,  he  can  be  made  familiar  with 
the  office  of  nouns  in  a  sentence.  Then  to  teach  him  that  nouns 
are  the  names  of  objects  is  an  easy  task  ;  whereas  the  reverse 
of  this  process  has  perhaps  never  been  successful.  The  child 
has  learned  the  required  definition  by  heart,  has  committed  the 
examples  in  the  same  useless  fashion,  and,  after  all,  has  learned 
both  definition  and  function  of  the  part  of  speech  (if,  indeed,  he 
has  learned  them  at  all)  in  the  exercise  of  parsmg.  Many 
recent  and  most  approved  modes  of  teaching  the  objective 
sciences,  Botany,  Mineralogy,  etc.,  proceed  on  this  plan. 

6.  Comparison  and  Contrast. 

394.  Comparison  and  Contrast  includes  not  only  the 
direct  methods  of  exhibiting'  objects  in  the  light  of  their 
resemblances  and  their  differences,  but  also  the  indirect 
methods  of  Repetition,  Obverse  Repetition,  Illustration, 
and  the  Presentation  of  Difficulties.  Repetition  and 
Illustration  are  indirect  methods  of  Comparison  ;  Obverse 
Repetition  and  the  Presentation  of  Difficulties,  indirect 
methods  of  Contrast.  Repetition  adds  to  a  statement 
already  complete  another  or  others  like  it  in  thought  but 
different  in  expression.     For  example  ; — 

"Rugged  furrows,  seamed  with  yawning  gashes;  reddish 
wounds,  torn  and  crossed  by  pallid  wounds  ;  scar  upon  scar."2 

Illustration  compares  examples  under  the  rule  or  principle 
with  similar  cases  not  under  the  rule  or  principle.  For 
example ; — 

"Could  knights  in  armor  pursue  the  herdsman  into  his  bog? 
What  could  they  have  taken  as  prisoners,  except  a  few  half- 
starved  goats  ?    The  daring  climbers,  hunters  of  the  bear  and 

1  The  rules  are  condensed  from  Bain.  2  Taine,  Pyrenees,  p.  170. 


COMPARISON   AND    CONTRAST.  309 

[the]  wolf,  would  willingly  have  played  at  this  game,  sure  of 
winning  at  it  warm  clothes,  arms,  and  horses.  It  is  thus1  that 
independence  has  lasted  in  Switzerland." 

Obverse  Repetition  adds  to  a  statement  its  contradict- 
ory denied.     For  example  ; — 

"  Beside  him  sat  an  English  girl  and  her  mother.  The  young 
woman  had  not  succeeded  in  extinguishing  herself,  she  was 
frozen  at  her  birth." 

The  Presentation  of  Difficulties  is  the  method  of  stating 
objections  etc.  to  truth,  only  in  order  to  contrast  them 
when  refuted  with  the  truth  itself.  Thus,  Paley's  Moral 
Philosophy  "proceeds  in  the  disquisition"  only  after  the 
reader's  "  own  doubts  and  solicitude  about  "  the  question 
to  be  discussed  have  been  excited.  In  other  subjects 
than  Moral  Philosophy,  a  capital  incentive  to  hard  work 
is  a  humiliating  sense  of  one's  own  ignorance. 

(II.)  Argument. 

395.  The  theme  in  Argument  is  always  a  judgment, 
the  assertion  of  the  agreement  or  the  non-agreement  of 
two  terms;  for  example,  The  whale  is  not  a  fish ;  The 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  ought  to  be  amended. 
The  Discussion  establishes  the  truth  or  falsity  of  this  judg- 
ment ; — in  other  words,  convinces  the  reader  that  the 
judgment  is  true  or  false. 

396.  This  judgment,  however,  is  not  always  given  as 
the  subject  of  composition.  In  actual  work,  subjects  are 
rarely  so  presented  :  they  rather  come  in  a  shape  not 
prepared  for  discussion  ;  for  example,  the  case  at  law, 
the  fact  of  a  crime — a  fact  that  demands  explanation — that 
is,  tracing  to  a  criminal  as  its  author  ;  etc.  In  the  usual 
school  or  college  exercises,  it  is,  therefore,  an  excellent 
plan,  in  order  to  allow  the  writer  the  greatest  freedom 

JSo  far  the  case  referred  to  is  that  of  the  people  of  Bigorre  :  now  the  similar 
case  of  Switzerland  is  cited. — The  words  illustration  and  example,  however 
are  often  exchanged. 


C,lO  INVENTION. 

in  choosing  his  proposition,  to  state  subjects  as  broadly 
as  possible  :  then  the  particular  judgment  that  it  is  pro- 
posed to  establish, — the  judgment,  in  other  words,  that 
is  selected  as  proposition, — must  often  be  determined  with 
great  care. 

Thus,  suppose  a  writer  had  a  subject  assigned  him  as  Cowper 
had  when  Lady  Austen  bade  him  write  her  a  poem  on  T/ie 
Sofa.  He  might  do  as  Cowper  did,  string  on  this  slender 
thread  many  and  diverse  pearls  of  thought,  bringing  all  modes 
of  discussion,  perhaps,  under  contribution  in  the  course  of  his 
work  ;  or,  reaching  more  or  less  immediately  one  of  Cowper's 
propositions, — 

"  Like  a  coy  maiden,  Ease,  when  courted  most, 
Farthest  retires," — 

he  might  make-  this  judgment  his  proposition,  developing  and 
establishing  the  moral  truths  contained  in  it.  Even  when  the 
subject  admits  of  only  argumentative  treatment,  no  little  skill 
may  be  used  in  stating  the  proposition.  A  certain  sermon  on 
the  text,  "And  Jesus  stood  before  the  governor  :  and  the  gov- 
ernor asked  him,  saying,  Art  thou  the  King  of  the  Jews?  And 
Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thou  sayest,"  argued  the  dilemma, 
"Either  Jesus  was  what  he  claimed  to  be,  the  long-expected 
Messiah,  or  he  was  an  out  and  out  impostor." 

397.  The  work  of  determining  exactly  what  is  the 
question  involved  in  a  given  subject,  is  materially  pro- 
moted by  a  knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  the  following 
terms  ; — (a)  the  subject  of  discussion,  (b~)  the  question 
raised,  (e)  the  point  at  issue.  The  subject  of  discussion 
is  the  theme  stated  in  its  most  general  terms ;  for 
example,  Liberty.  The  question  raised  is  the  particular 
question  proposed  for  argument  under  this  subject ;  for 
example,  Is  liberty  an  inalienable  right  of  man's?  The 
point  at  issue  is  the  special  question  on  the  answer  to 
which  the  question  raised  must  turn  ;  for  example,  Ought 
the  power  to  control  (govern)  oneself  to  be  a  condition 
to  the  enjoyment  of  liberty  ?  The  theme  in  Argument 
then  will  be,  The  power  to  control  (govern)  oneself 
ought  (or  ought  not)  to  be  a  condition  to  the  enjoyment 


ARGUMENT.  31 1 

of  liberty.  So,  the  resistance  of  the  American  colonies 
in  the  last  century  was  ungrateful  rebellion,  if  the  point 
at  issue  between  them  and  the  home  government  was 
the  refusal  of  the  colonies  to  pay  a  mere  pittance  begged 
of  them  to  relieve  the  burdens  of  the  motherland ;  but, 
if  that  point  was  the  right  of  the  home  government  to 
impose  taxes  on  British  subjects  without  the  consent  of 
their  representatives  in  Parliament,  then  the  resistance 
was  lawful  opposition  to  tyranny. 

398.  The  judgment  thus  obtained  as  the  point  at  issue 
in  any  argument,  may  be  (a)  "  known  both  in  its  matter 
and  in  its  truth  "  or  (b)  "  unknown  either  as  to  its  truth 
or  as  to  both  its  matter  and  its  truth."  x  In  (b)  it  is  an 
Hypothesis,  a  tentative  judgment  held  only  for  the  pur- 
poses of  Investigation :  in  (a)  it  is  a  Theory,  an  established 
principle  exhibited  for  the  purposes  of  Conviction.  Thus, 
when  Galileo,  first  suspected  the  motion  of  the  earth, 
his  proposed  judgment,  the  earth  moves,  simply  was  an 
hypothesis.  Kepler  and  Newton,  who  established  the 
truth  of  Galileo's  suspicion,  placed  the  judgment  in  the 
category  of  theories.  To-day  a  widely  received  hypoth- 
esis of  electricity  regards  it  as  a  subtle  force  possessing 
certain  attributes  and  qualities  :  as  yet  no  theory  of  elec- 
tricity has  been  evolved. 

399.  In  all  cases,  Argument  proceeds  by  the  exhibition 
of  Proofs, — "the  conceptions  or  judgments  on  which 
the  proposition  to  be  confirmed  depends."2  The  gen- 
eral nature  of  this  process  is  set  forth  in  Logic,  and  does 
not  properly  belong  to  Rhetoric  ;  but  certain  truths  of 
Logic  essential  to  the  due  comprehension  of  the  rhetorical 
laws,  must  be  briefly  stated. 

400.  (a)  Reasoning  is  (a)  Immediate,  from  one  judgment 
directly  to  another  ;  (  V)  Mediate,  from  one  judgment  to  another 
through  a  third.  For  example,  (a)  All  men  are  mortal  ;  No 
man  is  immortal.     (:U  All  M  is  P  ;  All  S  is  M  ;  All  S  is  P. 

J  Day,  §119.  2Day,  §?  125  ff. 


312  INVENTION. 

401.  (b)  Proof  is  (a)  Direct,  "  when  applied  immediately  to 
the  establishment  of  the  proposition;"  (ft)  Indirect,  "when 
applied  to  the  overthrow  of  objections."1  (ft)  is  known  as 
Refutation.  For  example,  (a)  Daniel  Webster,2  defending  the 
life-tenure  of  office  for  the  Massachusetts  judges  by  asserting 
that  only  with  it  could  they  be  independent,  cites  the  venality 
of  the  English  judges  before  1688,  the  noticeable  change  after 
the  establishment  of  life-tenure  for  them,  the  illegal  forfeiting 
of  the  colonial  charter  of  Massachusetts  by  judges  dependent 
on  the  Crown,  and  the  complaint  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence itself  that  the  British  King  had  made  colonial  judges 
venial  by  limiting  their  tenure  of  office,  (ft)  In  his  famous 
speech  on  the  Knapp  trial,  before  he  says  one  word  on  the 
direct  evidence  against  the  prisoner,  he  refutes  certain  objec- 
tions on  which  the  counsel  for  the  defense  had  made  no  small 
part  of  their  stand  ;  viz.,  that  he  had  been  brought  into  the  case 
"to  hurry"  the  jurymen  "against  the  law  and  beyond  the 
evidence,"  that  unusual  means  had  been  taken  to  discover  the 
perpetrators  of  the  crime,  etc.  His  replies  to  these  objections 
are  made,  not  as  proving  the  guilt  of  the  prisoner,  but  simply  in 
order  to  free  the  minds  of  the  jurymen  from  everything  that 
might  deprive  the  direct  evidence  of  its  full  weight. 

402.  (c)  Proofs  have  been  classified  and  sub-classified  as  fol- 
lows;— All  proofs  are  either  Analytic  or  Synthetic;  Synthetic 
proofs  are  either  Intuitive  or  Empirical ;  and  Empirical  proofs 
are  A  priori,  A  posteriori,  and  Examples. 

Analytic  proofs  are  given  in  the  terms  of  the  judgment  itself  ; 
Synthetic  proofs  come  from  outside  the  judgment.  Thus,  the 
assertion,  God  did  not  create  man  a  two-legged  animal,  and 
leave  it  to  Aristotle  to  make  him  rational,  carries  with  it  its  own 
proof,  for  the  definition  of  man  is  rational  animal;  but  the 
assertion,  Man  is  mortal,  contains  nothing  in  either  term  byway 
of  proof  of  the  judgment 

Intuitive  proofs  are  furnished  by  the  mind  itself ;  Empirical 
proofs,  by  experience.  Thus,  one's  own  existence  is  proved 
by  one's  own  consciousness.3  That  water  freezes  at  a  certain 
temperature,  or  that  heat  expands  iron,  can  be  known  only  from 
observation. 

A  priori  proofs,  or  proofs  from  Antecedent  Probability,  are 
arguments  from  whole  to  part, — either  from  substance  to  attribute 

1  Day,§§  125  ff.        -  Remarks  in  the  Mass.  State  Constitutional  Convention. 
8  "Cogito,  ergo  sum,"  said  Descartes:  "  I  think,  therefore  I  exist." 


ARGUMENT.  313 

or  from  cause  to  effect.  A  posteriori  proofs,  or  Signs,  are 
exactly  the  reverse  of  a  priori  proofs  ;  they  are  arguments  from 
part  to  whole, — either  from  attribute  to  substance  or  from  effect 
to  cause.  Examples  rest  on  "  the  common  property  or  relation 
that  exists  between  parts  of  the  same  whole. "*  They  are  argu- 
ments either  by  Indue  Hon  or  by  Analogy.  Thus,  the  facts  that 
a  certain  substance  is  gold,  and  that  a  certain  man,  having 
swallowed  a  certain  dose  of  arsenic,  died  shortly  afterwards, 
are  respectively  a  priori  proofs  that  the  substance  is  malleable, 
and  that  the  dose  of  arsenic  killed  the  man.  Vice  versa, 
the  facts  that  gold  has  been  dissolved  by  a  single  acid,  and 
that  water  has  frozen,  are  respectively  a  posteriori  proofs  that 
the  acid  was  selenic  acid,  and  that  the  temperature  of  the  water 
had  fallen  to  the  freezing  point  or  below  it.  The  arguments  by 
Induction  and  by  Analogy  can  be  exemplified  by  formulas ; — 
A,  B,  C,  etc.,  cases  observed,  all  show  a  common  property  X  : 
therefore,  D,  E,  F,  etc., — all  other  like  cases, — will  show  the 
same  property;  A  and  B  resemble  each  other  in  having  the 
common  relation  X  :  therefore,  they  will  resemble  each  other  in 
having  the  relation  Y. 

403.  The  words  cause  and  effect,  as  used  here,  mean 
more  than  physical  cause  and  physical  effect.  They  intend 
anything  that,  in  the  loosest  sense  of  the  phrase,  accounts  for 
the  effect,  or  which  is  accounted  for  by  the  cause.  The  in- 
clusion of  substance  and  attribute,  too,  in  the  definitions  of  a 
priori  and  a  posteriori  proofs  seems  just.  Inferences  from 
either  to  the  other  are  certainly  not  examples  ;  yet  both  are 
known  by  experience,  and,  therefore,  proofs  of  them  are  em- 
pirical. 

404.  (d)  Arguments  of  the  several  classes  differ  in  value 
from  apodictic  certainty  (a)  to  the  lowest  degree  of  mere  prob- 
ability, (w)  Analytic  and  intuitive  arguments  are  of  class  (a)  ; 
empirical  arguments  never  rise  to  apodictic  certainty,  but  may 
reach  the  highest  degree  of  probability.  The  weakest  argument 
is  that  by  Analogy  :  its  chief  use  is  to  refute  objections  by  show- 
ing that  like  objections  in  similar  cases  have  no  weight.  Con- 
current arguments,  if  drawn  from  wholly  independent  sources, 
are  cumulative  in  force,  but,  otherwise,  are  of  no  greater  value 
than  each  would  be  alone.  This  truth  needs  especially  to  be 
remembered  in  weighing  Testimony  or  Authority,  {a posteriori 
arguments  respecting  matters  of  fact  or  matters  of  opinion.) 

1  Day,  1 147. 


314  INVENTION. 

Either  is  truly  cumulative,  only  when  the  several  witnesses  are 
undeniably  independent. 

405.  The  successful  presentation  of  a  new  judgment 
may  depend  quite  as  much  on  (a)  the  state  of  the  mind 
addressed,  (7/)  the  mode  of  presenting  the  proposition, 
or  (V)  the  arrangement  of  the  several  proofs,  as  on  the 
intrinsic  value  of  these  proofs.  Each  of  these  points, 
which  are  strictly  rhetorical,  needs  elaboration. 

406.  (a)  The  mind  addressed  may  be  "without  any 
belief;"  "in  weak  faith,"  or  "in  positive  disbelief;" 
and  belief  may  vary  in  degree,  ' '  from  a  faint  probability 
to  absolute  \apodidic\  certainty."  1  In  each  case,  the 
method  of  argumentation  is  in  some  respects  different. 

First,  to  a  man  who  professes  strict  impartiality  because  he 
has  as  yet  reached  no  conclusion  on  the  subject  of  discussion, 
the  method  of  Investigation  may  properly  be  proposed.  For 
example,  the  value  of  the  study  of  modern  languages  for  dis- 
cipline is  both  affirmed  and  denied  :  a  discussion  of  the  subject 
may,  therefore,  properly  open  with  the  question,  Is  the  study 
of  modern  languages  as  conducive  to  mental  discipline  as 
the  study  of  the  ancient  classics?  Secondly,  to  one  who 
believes,  indeed,  but  is  seeking  further  and  stronger  grounds 
for  his  weak  faith,  only  supporting  evidence  should  be  pre- 
sented ;  as  to  one  whom  it  is  proposed  to  rob  of  even  his 
weak  faith,  only  destructive  argument  should  be  addressed. 
"  If  a  man  will  know  of  the  doctrine  whether  it  be  of  God," 
said  the  Saviour,  "let  him  do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven  ;  "  that  is,  let  him  assume  it  true,  and  test  its  truth  by 
practising  it.  On  the  other  hand,  modern  Scepticism  says, 
"Miracles  are  scientifically  impossible;  and  the  whole  Chris- 
tian system  rests  on  the  story  of  the  Resurrection  of  Christ." 
Thirdly,  when  positive  disbelief  is  to  be  met,  two  methods  are 
possible ; — either  sudden,  bold  attack,  in  supreme  confidence 
that  one  is  right,  or  else  wary  approach  through  principles  gen- 
erally conceded,  but  which  lead  ultimately  to  the  truths  in 
dispute.  For  example,  the  public  improvements  that  a  certain 
city  needs  are  refused  by  a  state  legislature  the  majority  of 
which    really   believes   that    no  necessity   exists   for  the   im- 

1  Day,  \\  120  ff. 


ARGUMENT.  315 

provements.  In  this  case,  argument  may  proceed  either  from 
a  bold  assumption  that  the  buildings  or  water-works  or  appa- 
ratus for  lighting  or  other  such  public  arrangement  is  shabby  or 
old-fashioned  or  long  since  insufficient,  or  else  from  a  con- 
ciliatory setting  out  of  the  many  beauties  of  the  city,  its  advan- 
tageous situation,  the  natural  pride  every  citizen  of  the  state 
has  in  it  as  the  metropolis  of  his  state,  and  so  on,  until  the  point 
of  safety  has  been  reached  at  which  the  suggestion  may  be 
ventured  that  this  really  noteworthy  city  would  be  even  more 
an  object  of  everyone's  affection  and  pride,  were  its  buildings 
only  newer,  its  main  streets  lighted  by  electricity,  etc. 

407.  Compositions  intended  to  be  delivered  can,  of 
course,  be  the  more  easily  accommodated  in  this  respect  ; 
for  the  speaker  is  able,  in  many  cases,  to  estimate  fairly 
well  his  probable  audience,  while  the  writer  is  far  less 
able  to  judge  what  readers  his  argument  will  reach. 
Hence,  argument  intended  to  be  read  must  either  be 
specifically  addressed  to  one  class  of  minds,  or  else  cover 
ground  enough  to  enable  it  to  reach  one  class  of  readers 
after  another.  Thus,  the  argument  by  dilemma  men- 
tioned above1  would  have  no  weight  with  a  man  who 
denied  the  authenticity  of  the  New  Testament ;  Mr.  Mor- 
rison's Proofs  of  Christ' ' s  Resurrection,  a  summary  of 
the  evidences  to  the  Resurrection  as  an  historical  event, 
would  have  no  weight  with  one  who  denied  the  possibility 
of  such  an  event.  A  complete  defence  of  Christianity 
must  refute  all  the  objections  brought  against  it  or  likely 
to  be  brought  against  it. 

408.  (b)  The  Proposition  must  commonly  be  stated  at 
the  outset  ;2  but,  (a)  if  it  is  complex,  it  may  be  set  forth 
seriatim;  (/?)  if  the  subject  is  likely  to  be  unpleasant,  certain 
general  considerations  calculated  to  excite  interest  may  be 
stated  first;  while  (/)  if  prejudices  exist,  only  the  general 
subject  must  be  distinctly  stated,  and  the  proposition  be 
brought  in  later,  as  if  by  way  of  necessary  conclusion 
from   conceded   premises  ;    or   ('»)    the   question  raised 

1 1  396.  i 1  2S5,  above. 


316  INVENTION. 

may  be  proposed  for  investigation,  and  every  care  be 
taken  to  preserve  absolute  impartiality  in  the  discussion. 
The  last  three  cases  need  exemplification. 

(«)  In  Ad  Fidem,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Burr  proposes,  not  only  to 
present  some  of  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  but  to  bring  his 
hearers  into  a  particular  "mora/  state  in  which  alone  [he 
believes]  they  can  fairly  use  the  evidences."  He  therefore 
unfolds  his  plan  little  by  little  ;  his  first  eight  lectures  "prepare 
the  ground"  for  his  house;  the  rest  "build  it."  (,3)  In 
the  same  work,  (a  volume  of  Parish  Lectures,  and  addressed, 
therefore,  not  to  believers  only,)  Dr.  Burr  evidently  takes 
especial  pains  to  make  his  subject  attractive,  and  to  postpone 
arguments  that  might  prove  unpleasant,  until  an  interest  in  the 
general  subject  has  been  aroused.  (>)  In  another  work,  Pater 
Mundi,  Lectures  addressed  to  the  students  of  Amherst  College, 
his  plan  is  evidently  that  of  allaying  prejudices  by  proposing,  in 
the  extreme  of  fairness,  to  test  Christianity  by  experience. 

409.  (V)  The  arrangement  of  the  several  proofs  in  an 
argument  is  also  a  matter  of  the  first  importance.  It 
depends  on  the  following  principles  ; — 

(a)  The  state  of  the  mind  addressed  may  influence  the  order. 
(«')  If  the  hearer  is  without  belief,  or  if  there  is  "  weak  faith  " 
to  be  strengthened,  the  less  powerful  arguments  naturaliy  stand 
first,  so  that  the  strongest  impression  may  be  made  last.  But 
to  this  rule  circumstances  may  indicate  exceptions.  (a//)  If 
there  is  "positive  disbelief"  to  be  overcome,  this  opposition 
must  be  borne  down  at  once,  and  that  by  unmasking  the 
"heaviest  guns."1  This  done,  the  order  of  what  follows  is  of 
secondary  importance,  except  that  the  argument  must  not  close 
so  weakly  as  to  leave  an  impression  that  damaging  concessions 
have  been  made  to  the  other  side.  Two  methods  of  avoiding 
tli is  unfortunate  result  have  been  suggested  ; — a  capable  reserve 
may  be  kept  up  to  give  "  the  finishing  stroke  ;  "  or  the  argu- 
ments, exhibited  from  strong  to  weak,  may  be  recapitulated  in 
inverse  order.  The  danger  of  tediousness,  however,  is  always 
great  in  recapitulations. 

1  Cf.  §  406,  Thirdly,  above. — The  two  rules  are  not  contradictory  ;  for  this  rule 
refers  only  to  the  order  of  presenting  the  proofs,  that  to  the  whole  process  of 
argument. 


ARGUMENT.  317 

(/J)  Proofs  depend  upon  each  other.  "Some  are  explained 
by  others  ;  some  presuppose  others  ;  some  have  great  weight 
if  preceded  by  certain  others,  and  are  of  little  moment  unless 
so  preceded."  These  principles  determine  the  following 
rules  ; — (/3/)  "  Analytic  proofs  precede  all  others."  The  terms 
of  the  proposition  must  be  explained  ;  and  proof  that  comes 
out  during  this  process  will  clearly  be  of  primary  importance. 
(fi")  A  prion  proofs  precede  both  signs  and  examples.  A 
sufficient  cause  once  shown,  {e.g.,  a  motive  to  the  commis- 
sion of  crime,)  proofs  from  the  effects  of  that  cause  back  to  the 
cause  itself,  or  from  examples  of  the  action  of  such  a  cause 
back  to  the  cause,  acquire  double  weight  :  no  amount  of  a  pos- 
teriori proof  or  examples  can  make  an  allegation  of  crime  seem 
probable,  when  no  motive  can  be  found  for  its  commission. 

410.  The  process  of  Argumentation  varies  further  as  the 
speaker  has  or  has  not  on  his  side  the  Burden  of  Proof 
{onus  probandi.)  In  the  former  case,  he  must  make  the 
attack,  must  act  on  the  offensive  :  in  the  latter,  (when  he 
is  said  to  have  the  Presumption  in  his  favor,)  he  may 
simply  stand  on  the  defensive.  The  Greek  word  apology 
(fi-ohiyia,  a  pleading  off,)  was  once  commonly  used, 
and  is  still  used  occasionally,  to  denote  an  argument  of 
this  sort ;  though  it  may  mean  an  argument,  which, 
though  really  intended  to  enforce  belief,  takes  the  form 
of  a  reply  to  possible  or  actual  objections.  Thus,  even 
in  the  early  Christian  centuries,  when  the  onus  was  upon 
Christianity  to  establish  its  truth,  and  to  convince  men  of 
its  superiority  to  all  other  systems  of  religion,  it  never- 
theless carried  on  its  struggle  with  error,  as  it  now  does, 
chiefly  by  apologies. 

411.  The  importance  of  determining  on  which  side 
the  Burden  of  Proof  rests,  lies,  not  only  in  the  fact  that 
thereby  the  labor  of  proving  one's  thesis  may  often  be 
saved,  but  also  (and  still  more)  in  the  fact  that  to  under- 
take to  prove  what  may  fairly  be  presumed  is  to  endanger 
one's  own  position.  It  would  be  arrant  folly  to  volunteer 
a  defence  of  the  veracity  of  a  witness,  till  this  had  been  im- 
pugned :  the  very  offer  to  do  so  would  arouse  suspicion. 


318  INVENTION. 

412.  The  Presumption  is  always  on  the  side  (a)  of  the 
negative  of  every  issue, '  (£)  of  what  exists,  as  opposed 
to  a  change,  (V)  of  the  innocence  of  a  person  accused,  and 
(d)  of  what  promotes  the  well  being  of  men,  as  opposed 
to  what  is  restrictive  and  injurious.     Thus; — 

He  who  maintains  that  Anglo-Saxon  is  the  same  language 
as  modern  English,  or  that  Shakspere  did  not  write  the  plays 
received  as  his,  must  show  reasons  for  his  thesis  ;  the  advocates 
of  the  substitution  of  modern  languages  for  the  classics  in  the 
college  curriculum,  or  of  the  admission  of  women  to  colleges 
for  men,  certainly  had  the  burden  of  proof,  whether  this  has 
more  recently  shifted  or  not.  So,  charges  against  a  man  in 
politics,  simply  because  he  is  in  politics,  on  the  assumption  that 
all  politicians  are  dishonorable  men,  fall  of  their  own  weight  ; 
as  the  reactionary  policy  of  a  Julian  or  a  James  the  Second 
was  censurable  as  tending  to  impair  the  prosperity  of  his  realm. 

413.  Presumptions  may  be  opposed  to  each  other ;  or 
they  may  shift  from  one  side  to  the  other,  even  in  the 
course  of  a  single  argument. 

Thus,  the  presumption  that  once  existed  against  the  admis- 
sion of  scientific  and  modern  language  studies  to  the  college 
curriculum  has  been  borne  down  by  the  opposing  presumption 
in  favor  of  what  will  benefit  mankind  ;  the  allegation  that  the 
education  of  women  should  be  as  thorough  and  as  advanced  as 
that  of  men  finds  few  disputants,  however  much  men  (and 
women,  too)  may  question  the  propriety  of  admitting  women  to 
men's  colleges.  So,  Luther  nailed  theses  to  the  church-door 
at  Wittemberg  ;  while  to-day,  in  Luther's  and  all  the  other 
protestant  churches,  the  burden  of  proof  rests  on  a  ;/o;/-pro- 
testant  theology.  In  a  single  suit  at  law  the  presumption  raised 
by  a  charge  in  a  "book  of  original  entry"  may  be  shifted  to 
the  defendant's  side  by  a  showing  of  fraudulent  book-keeping 
or  of  a  receipt  for  the  amount  claimed. 

In  the  first  case  a  balance  must  be  struck,  and  a  decision  be 
reached  by  this  means  ;  while,  in  all  the  cases  specified, — espe- 

'That  is,  on  the  side  that  does  not  make  the  affirmation.  This  affirmation 
maybe  a  negative  judgment,  or  the  negative  side  of  the  issue  may  be  expressed 
in  an  affirmative  judgment.  For  example,  The  earth  does  not  move,  or  The 
s?tn  does  move  (if  now  opposed  to  the  established  truth  that  the  earth  moves 
round  the  sun.) 


ARGUMENT.  319 

daily  when  the  argument  is  by  way  of  refutation, — it  is  politic  as 
well  as  right  to  concede  whatever  the  other  side  can  fairly  claim. 

414.  Argument  is  often  joined  in  the  same  discourse 
with  Explanation, — as,  of  the  terms  employed,  the 
attendant  circumstances,  etc.1  Such  explanations  may 
commonly  be  placed  in  the  introduction  ;  but  they  may 
sometimes  be  better  inserted  between  the  parts  of  the 
argument.  The  self-evident  rule  on  this  point  is  to 
place  such  helps  to  the  proofs  where  they  will  help 
most, — especially  where  they  will  best  serve  to  render 
the  argument  intelligible  and  convincing. 

415.  Further,  certain  personal  relations, — for  example, 
between  the  speaker  and  his  opponent,  the  speaker  and 
his  audience,  etc., — as  well  as  certain  relations  between  the 
audience  and  the  proposition  advanced,  the  mode  of  dis- 
cussion, and  the  occasion  of  speaking,  may  also  demand 
attention  in  an  argumentative  composition.  Such  matter 
will  commonly  stand  in  the  introduction ;  or,  if  it  must 
be  admitted  into  the  body  of  the  discourse,  should  always 
be  distinctly  marked  as  constituting  a  digression.  An 
introduction  of  this  kind  has  been  called  the  Introduction 
Conciliatory.  Thus,  Mr.  Webster,  in  a  speech  on  the 
Panama  mission,2  defends  his  own  consistency  in  opposing 
a  certain  amendment,  and  in  the  same  speech,  describes 
as  follows  the  special  relations  he  and  his  fellow  public 
men  held  to  the  questions  before  them  as  representatives 
of  a  great  people  ; — 

"Mr.  Chairman  :  it  is  our  fortune  to  be  called  upon  to  act 
our  part,  as  public  men,  at  a  most  interesting  era  in  human 
affairs.  The  short  period  of  your  life,  and  of  mine,  has  been 
thick  and  crowded  with  the  most  important  events.  Not  only 
new  interests  and  new  relations  have  sprung  up  among  States, 
but  new  societies,  new  nations,  and  families  of  nations,  have 
risen  to  take  their  places,  and  perform  their  parts,  in  the  order 

1 A  notable,  and   very  familiar,   example   is   Webster's  description   (in   the 
Knapp  murder  case)  of  the  death  of  old  Mr.  White. 

2 1".  S.  House  of  Representatives,  April,  1S26. 


320  INVENTION. 

and  the  intercourse  of  the  world.  Every  man,  aspiring  to  the 
character  of  a  statesman,  must  endeavor  to  enlarge  his  views  to 
meet  this  new  state  of  things.  He  must  aim  at  adequate  com- 
prehension, and  instead  of  being  satisfied  with  that  narrow 
political  sagacity,  which,  like  the  power  of  minute  vision,  sees 
small  things  accurately,  but  can  see  nothing  else,  he  must  look 
to  the  far  horizon,  and  embrace,  in  his  broad  survey,  whatever 
the  series  of  recent  events  has  brought  into  connexion,  near  or 
remote,  with  the  country  whose  interests  he  studies  to  serve." 

416.  The  Conclusion  of  an  argumentative  composi- 
tion is  generally  occupied  with  a  summary  of  the  argu- 
ment presented.  The  full  force  of  an  argument  is 
more  or  less  dissipated,  of  course,  by  the  necessity  the 
writer — much  more  the  speaker — -is  under  of  presenting 
it  part  by  part :  the  summary  serves  to  bring  these  parts 
into  their  smallest  compass,  and  thus  to  show  their  rela- 
tions. But  the  conclusion  may  also  be  either  explanatory 
or  further  confirmatory  ;  and  it  is  frequently  occupied 
with  an  appeal  to  the  feelings  or  the  will.  In  the  latter 
cases,  it  will  be  guided  by  rules  to  be  stated  below. 

(III.)  Excitation. 

417.  The  theme  in  Excitation  is  always  an  object  of 
thought  towards  which  the  feelings  may  be  called  out. 
Hence,  it  will  always  be  expressed  by  a  noun  or  noun- 
clause ;  as,  "  The  Sufferings  of  the  Poor,"  or  "  That  the 
poor  are  suffering. ' ' 

418.  Passion  is  aroused  either  by  Pathetic  Explanation, 
the  proper  setting  forth  of  the  object  of  feeling,  or  by  the 
Employment  of  Sympathy.  The  latter  alone  will  excite 
blind,  unintelligent  feeling,  for  "passion"  (as  Antony 
says)  "  is  catching;"  but  both  fairness  and  good  policy 
urge  the  laying  of  a  sufficient  ground  for  the  feeling 
appealed  to.  Vice  versa,  while  explanation  alone  may 
suffice  to  evoke  feeling,  an  unsympathetic  speaker  or  one 
who  is  plainly  "acting  his  part"  will  inevitably  fail  of 


EXCITATION. 


321 


his  end  :  dispassion,  too,  is  catching ;  and  discovered 
hypocrisy  only  disgusts.  Pathetic  Explanation  is  effected 
by  the  processes  set  forth  under  the  head  of  Explanation 
above ;  but  these  processes  will  be  modified  according  to 
principles  to  be  stated  presently.  The  Employment  of 
Sympathy  is  governed  by  rules  entirely  its  own. 

419.  Regard  for  the  persons  addressed  is  nowhere 
more  imperative  than  here  :  "ignorance  or  mistake  may 
occasion  an  entire  failure."  *  Three  states  of  mind  are, 
of  course,  possible, — favorable  disposition,  indifference, 
and  unfavorable  disposition.  A  mind  favorably  disposed 
or  indifferent  may  be  approached  directly ;  but  a  mind 
that  is  in  a  position  of  unqualified  antagonism  must  be 
addressed  with  great  caution.  In  this  case,  the  unfavor- 
able feeling  must  first  be  allayed  ;  or  "  other  feelings,  in 
their  nature  incompatible  with  those  to  be  allayed,  and 
yet  not  directly  opposed  to  them,  may  be  awakened,  and 
thus  the  unfavorable  feelings  be  displaced."  2  Prof.  Day 
cites  an  apt  example  of  these  two  methods  ; — 

Brutus,  who  finds  the  people  disposed  to  demand  rather 
grimly  the  reasons  why  their  favorite,  Caesar,  was  murdered, 
appeals  to  their  love  of  country,  and  so  displaces  their  love  for 
Caesar  ;  Antony  most  craftily  hides  his  real  feeling,  "  appears,  at 
first,  as  the  friend  of  Brutus,  disclaims  all  intentions  of  praising 
Caesar,  gets  the  attention  of  the  crowd,  fixes  it  on  Caesar,  and 
then,  though  at  first  he  speaks  of  Caesar's  faults,  gradually 
passes  to  defend  his  character. ' '  The  effect  is  just  what  Antony 
intended.  The  rage  of  his  hearers  at  Caesar's  usurpations  and 
tyranny  gradually  subsides  ;  Brutus's  warnings  are  forgotten ; 
the  feelings  of  the  mob  are  turned  in  the  opposite  direction  ; 
and  they  leave  Antony,  clamoring  furiously  for  the  blood  of 
Caesar's  enemies.'' 

420.  The  place  of  the  Proposition  in  Excitatory  Dis- 
course has  been  much  debated.  Whately  thinks  that  an 
appeal  to  the  feelings  should  never  ' '  be  introduced  as 

1  Day,  I  1S9. 

'Day,  5  191.— Day's  whole  passage,  j§  1S5-208,  is  worth  careful  study. 
21 


322  INVENTION. 

such,  and  plainly  avowed;"  for,  if  the  purpose  is  to 
suggest  motives  that  the  hearer  ought  not  to  act  on,  then 
plainly  cautious  approach  is  necessary  ;  whereas,  even  if 
the  motives  are  such  as  he  may  rightly  act  on,  the 
hearer  will  nevertheless  resent  "  the  apparent  assumption 
of  superiority  in  a  speaker  who  seems  to  say,  '  Now  I 
will  exhort  you  to  feel  as  you  ought  on  this  occasion  ; ' 
'  I  will  endeavor  to  inspire  you  with  such  noble,  and 
generous,  and  amiable  sentiments  as  you  ought  to  enter- 
tain ; '  which  is,  in  effect,  the  tone  of  him  who  avows  the 
purpose  of  Exhortation."  l  But,  as  Day  points  out,2  bad 
as  "  such  avowals  of  intention  are  on  every  principle  of 
correct  taste,"  it  is  their  form,  rather  than  their  being 
avowals  of  intention  that  is  objectionable  ;  and  they  are  as 
objectionable  in  one  sort  of  discourse  as  in  another.  ' '  In 
pronouncing  a  eulogy,"  for  instance,  "in  endeavoring 
to  inspire  sentiments  of  confidence  and  courage,"  or 
' '  in  seeking  to  strengthen  the  sentiment  of  Christian 
gratitude  for  the  blessings  of  the  gospel, ' '  there  surely  can 
be  no  impropriety  in  setting  the  Proposition  at  or  near 
the  beginning  of  the  work  ;  or,  if  there  is,  the  Thanks- 
giving Day  preacher  blunders  who  proposes  ' '  the  timely 
fruits  of  the  earth  "  as  a  reason  for  gratitude  to  God,  and 
Demosthenes  was  no  orator  when  he  told  the  Athenians 
that,  if  Philip's  growing  power  had  not  made  them  afraid, 
he  would  briefly  give  them  reasons  for  entertaining  such 
a  fear."  Whately's  statement  is  by  far  too  sweeping  :  the 
truth  is,  that,  in  Excitation, — and,  indeed,  in  discourse 
of  all  kinds, — the  Proposition  must  stand  wherever 
it  will  contribute  most  to  the  end  in  view  in  writing. 
Doubtless,  reasons  will  often  exist  for  postponing  its 
introduction  ;  but,  vice  versa,  good  reasons  often  deter- 
mine its  bold  presentation  at  the  start.  Other  things 
being  equal,  Variety  may  be  allowed  to  control  a  writer 
in  this  particular. 

1 II.  ii.  §  i.  agi94- 


EXCITATION.  323 

421.  When,  however,  opposition  is  r  ably  to  be 
expected,  or  when  known  prejudices  are  to  be  met,  a 
gradual  approach  to  the  subject  is  judicious.  Obscurity 
as  to  what  the  speaker  "is  coming  to"  will  excite 
curiosity  and  secure  attention  ;  adroit  management  will 
also  engage  the  interest;  and  thus  ti.  lute 
opponent  will  be  outgeneralled. 

For  example,  a  famous  living  preacher,  who  has  loosened 
more  purse-strings,  and  led  the  way  to  more  true  charity,  per- 
haps, than  any  other  one  man,  i  bes  his  theme 
gradually.  Perhaps  without  intention,  though  apparently  by 
intention,  he  announces  a  text  that  does  not  even  suggest  a 
"begging"  sermon.  The  flood  of  his  eloquence  is  irresistible. 
Before  they  know  it,  his  listeners  are  committed  to  principles 
the  logical  consequences  of  which  they  little  suspect ;  and  then 
a  sudden  turn  in  the  sermon  applies  one  or  more  of  these  prin- 
ciples to  the  charity,  the  church-work,  the  toiling  and  suffering 
missionaries.  The  generous  response  of  the  audience  is  se- 
cured ;  and  the  indirect  approach  has  accomplished  infinitely 
more  than  a  direct  appeal  could  have  achieved.  A  feeling  of 
agreeable  surprise  is  felt,  almost  epigrammatic  in  its  : 
and  resistance  is  disarmed.  On  the  other  hand,  the  case  of 
another  preacher  is  doubtless  typical.  He  was  famous  for 
sermons  of  this  class  that  were  simple  presentations  of  the 
"  object,"  supported  by  the  most  irresistible  logic.  They  were 
always  announced  on  the  previous  Sunday,  they  a!  cu- 

pied  the  whole  hour,  (Dr. never  preached  short  sermons,) 

and  they  always  presented  a  distinctly  avowed   pr  ion, 

"  This  object  demands  your  unqualified  sympathy  and  support." 
The  preacher  was  not  eloquent,  except  as  worthy  thought  is 
always  eloquent ;  his  manner  was  quiet,  but  deeply  charged 
with  sincere  sympathy  with  his  subject ;  yet  his  congregations 
were  never  smaller  #on  one  Sunday  than  on  another ;  and  it 
was  actually  said  of  him  that  men  who  went  to  church  re 
not  t  ays  gave  liberally  before  they  came  away. 

422.  The  presentation  of  the  object  of  feeling — the 
process  already  called  Pathetic  Explanation— 

by  certain  special  rules.  These,  as  stated  by  Prof.  Day, 
are  four  ;  but  Day' s  first  and  third  rules  may  conveni- 
ently be  combined ; — 


3?4  INVENTION. 

423.  (a)  The  Canon  of  Selection  must  have  wide  scope  in 
Pathetic  Explanation.  Only  those  points  or  features  in  the 
object  that  are  especially  adapted  to  the  feelings  or  sentiments 
to  be  azuakejied,  and  only  the  most  prominent  and  striking- 
features  and  outlines  of  the  object  should  be  presented.  More 
will  only  obscure  the  reader's  view,  and  so  tend  to  defeat  the 
writer's  aim.  In  the  passage  already  cited  from  Shakspere's 
Julius  Cczsar,  Brutus  speaks  mainly  of  Caesar's  usurpations, 
Antony  mainly  of  his  love  for  the  people  ;  and  each  selects  the 
details  especially  suited  to  his  own  purpose. 

424.  {b)  Particular  rather  than  general  views  of  the  object 
must  be  taken.  Examples  under  this  law,  too,  will  be  found 
in  the  extract  from  the  Julius  Cczsar.  So,  Sheridan's  Invective 
against  Warren  Hastings  describes  "the  paroxysm,  fever,  and 
delirium,"  the  natives  hastening  their  own  death  by  tearing 
open  their  wounds,  and  their  prayers  to  God  that  their  blood 
might  cry  aloud  for  vengeance. 

425.  (c)  Clearness  and  distinctness  are  not  necessary:  some- 
thing may  wisely  be  left  to  the  imagination.  Thus,  Antony 
does  not  tell  the  Roman  mob  how  much  Caesar  had  left  each 
citizen  in  his  will ;  and,  in  fact,  he  did  not  dare  to,  the  amount 
was  so  small. — In  the  motto,  "Not  one  cent  for  tribute,  millions 
for  defence,"  the  accurate  "one  cent"  expresses  the  conclu- 
sion the  American  people  had  reached,  not  to  yield  to  tyranny, 
while  the  vague  "  millions  "  was  an  appeal  to  patriotism. 

426.  The  emotion  that  controls  the  speaker's  mind, 
and  into  sympathy  with  which  he  would  bring  his  hearer, 
may  be  expressed  either  directly  or  indirectly.  By  the 
first  method  it  appears  naturally  :  rein  is  given  to  his 
feeling.  By  the  second  method,  the  feeling  appears  only 
"by  glimpses."  A  sob  that  will  break  through  one's 
self-control, — the  "One,  two,  three,  fire;  he's  dead!" 
of  the  maniac  duellist, — and  Antony'sxunning  disclosure 
of  his  love  for  Caesar, — are  apt  examples  of  the  second 
method  cited  by  Prof.  Day. 

(IV.)  Persuasion. 

427.  The  object  in  Persuasion  is  always  to  move  the 
will,  to  urge  it  to  a  resolve  to  do  or  not  to  do  a  certain 


PERSUASION.  325 

act,  to  adopt  or  to  refuse  to  adopt  a  certain  course  of 
conduct.  This  act  or  course  of  action  is  the  theme  of 
the  composition,  and  is,  of  course,  expressed  by  a  noun 
or  a  noun-clause.  For  example,  Repentance ;  I  will  arise 
and  go  to  my  father  ;  Your  man  skan't  stand ;  Not  one 
cent  for  fribute,  millions  for  defence. 

428.  Persuasion  proceeds  (a)  by  explaining  the  decision 
urged,  (6)  by  assigning  motives.  Hence,  fair  and  judi- 
cious Persuasion  involves  Explanation,  Argument,  and 
Excitation. 

Thus,  Edmund  Burke,  endeavoring  to  dissuade  the  British 
parliament  from  levying  taxes  on  America,  first  explains  that 
the  whole  scheme  was  a  going  "out  of  the  plain  high  road  of 
finance,"  a  giving  "  up  of  most  certain  revenues  and  the  clear- 
est interests,  merely  for  the  sake  of  insulting  the  Colonies;" 
then  agues  that,  while  tea  could  readily  "bear  an  imposition  of 
three-pence,  no  commodity  will  bear  three-pence,  or  will  bear 
a  penny,  when  the  general  feelings  of  men  are  irritated,  and  two 
millions  of  men  are  resolved  not  to  pay  ;  "  and  finally  appeals 
to  the  interest  of  England  itself  in  favor  of  a  conciliatory  policy 
towards  America. 

At  the  same  time,  the  will,  like  the  feelings,  may  be 
influenced  unintelligently,  and  then  but  too  often  wrongly. 

429.  A  motive  is  anything  that  "occasions  or  induces 
free  action  in  man."  By  a  minute  classification,  moral 
philosophers  have  distinguished  motives  according  to  sev- 
eral principles  ;  but  these  the  writer  will  learn  best  from 
the  books  of  Moral  Philosophy.  However  interesting  a 
summary  of  these  principles  might  be,  and  great  as  their 
value  undoubtedly  is  to  the  writer,  their  discussion  except 
at  a  length  that  would  be  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  neces- 
sary limits  of  the  present  work,  is  dangerous.  The  follow- 
ing general  truths,  however,  may  be  at  least  stated  ; — 

(a)  Motives  differ  in  strength,  and,  hence,  consummate  skill 
is  often  required  in  their  presentation. 

(/?)  Motives  high  "in  their  own  purity  and  excellence  are 
ever  to  be  preferred;"    and  such  as  are  lower  in  character 


326  INVENTION. 

should  always  be  exhibited  as  subordinate  to  the  higher,  or  as 
reinforcing  them.  The  good  of  mankind,  the  promotion  of 
public  ends,  the  reasonableness  of  considering  others'  rights  as 
well  as  one's  own, — these  and  other  such  motives  are  superior 
to  feelings  of  narrow  selfishness  or  of  a  brutal  intrusion  upon 
the  rights  or  privileges  of  others.  Honor,  the  doctrine  of 
noblesse  oblige,  etc. ,  are  other  examples. 

(})  Motives  must  be  chosen  by  "the  specific  tendencies  of 
the  minds  addressed."  For  example,  a  notably  selfish  man 
can  not  at  first  be  readied  by  an  appeal  to  his  consideration  of 
others,  a  coarse  man  by  feelings  of  delicacy,  a  bigoted  man  by 
the  beauty  of  toleration. 

(<J)  The  larger  the  audience,  "the  more  freely  may  the  higher 
motives  be  urged,  since  the  higher  are  the  more  universal." 
Doubtful  as  this  statement  may  seem,  it  is  unquestionable. 
The  race  as  a  whole,  whatever  may  be  true  of  individuals,  is 
most  susceptible  to  the  noblest  influences.  Pessimistic  views 
on  this  topic  are  as  untrue  as  they  are  depressing. 

430.  The  state  of  the  mind  addressed  is  a  vital  ques- 
tion :  success  in  persuasion  requires  prudence,  tact, 
high  intelligence,  and  remarkable  powers  of  other  sorts. 
The  mind  addressed  may  be  in  any  of  three  states  ; — ■ 
(a)  Indecision,  (b)  Indifference,  (V)  Adverse  decision. 
In  each  case  great  care,  sometimes  extreme  strategy,  will 
be  required  in  one's  approach.  Many  a  failure  to  per- 
suade is  doubtless  explained  by  the  unwariness,  the 
awkwardness,  sometimes  the  downright  brutality,  with 
which  the  attempt  was  begun.  It  is  far  easier  to  talk  a 
man  into  stubborn  resistance  than  to  bring  him  into 
intelligent  compliance.  Especially,  when  efforts  are  made 
to  induce  a  victim  of  some  evil  habit  to  abandon  that 
habit,  caution,  deep  sympathy,  the  avoidance  of  every- 
thing that  may  even  seem  like  self-assertion  or  self-suf- 
ficiency, are  absolutely  necessary.  It  was  the  remark  of 
a  most  pious  woman,  deeply  stirred  by  the  sight  of  the 
sin  and  misery  around  her,  that,  in  her  opinion,  the  first 
lesson  a  minister  of  the  gospel  needed  to  learn,  was  a 
knowledge  of  his  fellow  men  and  of  human  nature. 


PERSUASION.  327 

431.  The  rule  for  the  Proposition  is  the  same  as  in 
Excitation  :  it  may  safely  be  announced  whenever  the 
needs  of  the  discourse  shall  demand  it.  To  spring  the 
proposition  on  a  prejudiced  listener  is,  indeed,  unwise ; 
but  there  is  surely  as  great  imprudence  in  arousing  his 
suspicion  by  evidently  talking  "all  round"  the  subject, 
because  one  is  afraid  to  declare  it. 

432.  The  Arrangement  of  a  persuasive  discourse  will  be 
determined  mainly  by  the  laws  thus  laid  down.  Of  course, 
regard  must  also  be  had  to  the  purpose  in  writing ;  and  the 
student  must  remember  that,  in  all  kinds  of  composition, 
any  principle  of  Rhetoric  may  for  the  nonce  be  of  superior 
weight  to  the  special  rule  for  the  particular  subject  in 
hand.  But,  other  things  being  equal,  a  knowledge  of 
the  persons  addressed,  and  a  careful  estimate  of  the  real 
character  of  the  motives  to  be  presented,  will  give 
method  to  persuasion.  One  truth,  however,  should 
never  be  forgotten,  that,  although  it  may  sometimes  be 
necessary  to  approach  men  through  an  unworthy  appeal 
to  their  lower  natures,  yet  the  work  of  persuasion  can 
not  rightly  be  looked  upon  as  ended,  till  action  has  been 
secured  based  on  the  higher,  and,  therefore,  sufficient, 
grounds.  Otherwise,  the  writer  may  fail  of  his  end,  or 
even  find  that  he  has  only  induced  a  stubborn  continu- 
ance in  regretted  courses  of  action  or  a  stubborn  refusal 
to  move  from  the  ground  first  taken. 


APPENDIX. 


I.  The  Definition  of  Rhetoric. 

Two  objections  have  been  brought  against  Prof.  Day's  defini- 
tion of  Rhetoric,  accepted  in  the  text ; — (i)  That  it  is  equally 
true  of  Grammar ;  (2)  That  it  characterizes  Rhetoric  only  as 
an  art.     Each  of  these  objections  demands  attention. 

First,  According  to  the  objectors,  Grammar  as  well  as  Rhet- 
oric teaches  the  laws  of  speech  and  writing  :  Rhetoric  seeks  to 
make  discourse  effective  ;  it  teaches  men,  not  only  how  to 
convey  intelligence  to  other  minds,  but  how  to  obtain  over 
these  other  minds  a  mastery.  The  time-honored  definition  of 
Grammar  describes  it  as  teaching  men  how  to  speak  and  write. 
Surely  Rhetoric  is  something  more  than  this  ;  and  in  what, 
if  not  in  adapting  discourse  to  its  purpose,  or  end  in  view  ? 

But  all  this  proceeds  upon  a  time-honored  misconception  of 
the  office  of  Grammar,  which  has  not  necessarily  anything  to  do 
with  speaking  and  writing.  Grammar  seeks  only  to  discover 
and  establish  in  a  system  the  theory  of  the  sentence  :  Rhetoric 
deals  with  the  whole  composition,  and  with  the  sentence  as 
only  one  part  of  this  whole.  Grammar  is  not  an  art,  but  a 
science  :  it  aims  at  knowledge,  not  at  skill.1  The  ancient  defi- 
nition of  Grammar  simply  confused  it  with  Composition  ;  for, 
the  moment  Grammar  gives  lessons  in  composition,  that 
moment  it  becomes  Rhetoric,  on  however  low  a  plane.  Camp- 
bell long  ago  commented  on  the  close-lying  border  lands  of 
Grammar  and  Rhetoric ;  and,  but  for  his  faulty  definition  of  Rhet- 
oric, he  might  have  commented,  also,  on  the  erroneous  definition 
of  Grammar.  Further,  the  words  effective,  etc.  add  nothing  to 
Prof.  Day's  definition  of  Rhetoric  :  the  qualification  they  ex- 
press is  already  in  the  word  art ;  for  all  arts  aim  at  efficiency, 
and  the  only  possible  results  of  adding  a  qualifying  term  to  the 
definition  are  to  set  up  a  tautology  and  to  give  color  to  the 
unjust  aspersion  of  Rhetoric  as  an  art  that  teaches  an  unusual, 
bookish,  or  fussily  ornamented  style  of  writing — the  very  mode 

aSee  p.  331,  below. 

329 


330  APPENDIX. 

of  expression  that  a  true  Rhetoric  pillories  as  mere  "jewelry 
and  rouge," — the  acme  of  the  unrhetorical,  because  it  is  unnat- 
ural and  displeasing  to  every  cultivated  mind. 

Secondfy,  Rhetoric  is  often  defined  as  a  science  as  well  as  an 
art ;  but  in  no  true  sense  is  Rhetoric  a  science.  It  discovers 
nothing ;  it  simply  states  laws  that  are  true  in  the  nature  of 
man,  and  grounded  on  principles  furnished  by  its  nomothetical 
sciences.1  To  argue  this  question  fully  needs  the  light  of  certain 
distinctions  to  be  set  out  in  the  next  section  of  this  Appendix. 
Before  passing  to  these  distinctions,  however,  a  glance  must 
be  thrown  at  several  other  definitions  of  Rhetoric  anciently  or 
even  still  adopted  by  many  writers. 

(i)  The  Ancients,  whose  only  means  of  addressing  large 
bodies  was  speech,  and  who  had  only  written  books  and  but 
few  of  them,  naturally  thought  of  Rhetoric  as  the  art  of 
Oratory,  or  Spoken  Discourse.  (2)  Many  writers,  both  ancient, 
and  modern,  have  limited  the  art  to  Prose  Composition,2  ex- 
cluding Poetry  (or  both  Romance  and  Poetry)  as  fine  arts. 
The  end  of  Poetry  (and  Romance),  they  say,  is  to  please ; 
while  Rhetoric  strives  after  an  outward  end,  "that  mastery 
over  other  minds  which  it  does  not  quietly  wait  for,  but  obtains 
by  a  struggle."3  (3)  Whately,  accepting  Aristotle's  dictum, 
"Rhetoric  is  an  offshoot  [av-iorpocpoc]  from  Logic,"  still  further 
limits  Rhetoric  to  Argument,  and  practically  considers  Persua- 
sion as  the  end  of  the  art.  (4)  On  the  other  hand,  Ouintilian 
extended  the  province  of  the  art.  In  his  view,  Rhetoric  was 
"more  like  an  encyclopaedia  of  all  arts  and  sciences,  than  a 
limited  and  specific  branch  of  knowledge."*  It  included 
"everything  that  could  conduce  to  the  attainment  of  the  object 
proposed — Law,  Morals,  Politics,  etc.,  on  the  ground  that  a 
knowledge  of  these  subjects  is  requisite  to  enable  a  man  to 
speak  well  on  them."  5 

On  these  definitions,  the  following  criticisms  seem  just.  (1) 
The  Ancients'  definition  of  Rhetoric  was  due  solely  to  their  cir- 
cumstances. Had  they  known  printed  books,  or  had  even  the 
manuscript  copies  of  their  books  been  many  in  number,  they 
would  doubtless  have  extended  the  scope  of  their  art.  As  things 
were,  they  were  by  no  means  ignorant  that  much  of  their  teaching- 
applied  equally  to  writing.5  (2)  The  restriction  of  Rhetoric  to 
Prose  Composition  is  often  useful  by  way  of  limiting  the  scope 

1 1  16,  above.  2£  73,  above.  3  Theremin,  Eloquence  A  Virtue,  I.  ii. 

4Shedd,  Literary  Essays,  p.  106.  s  Whately,  \  I. 


APPENDIX. 


331 


of  a  text-book  or  a  course  of  study ;  but  it  can  not  be  maintained 
in  a  definition  of  the  art.  Many  rules  apply  equally  well  in  all 
kinds  of  compositions  ;  and  any  restriction  would  be  unscientific. 
(3)  So,  too,  with  regard  to  the  proposed  limiting  of  Rhetoric 
to  Argument  or  Persuasion  :  the  full  definition  of  the  art  is 
squarely  against  the  advocates  of  restriction  ;  and  nothing 
would  be  gained  by  it,  but  much  lost.  (4)  Quintilian's  exten- 
sion of  the  art  is  equally  unwise.  Rhetoric  is  no  more  under 
obligation  to  supply  the  knowledge  needed  by  a  writer  than 
is  Architecture  to  supply  bricks  or  mortar  or  other  materials 
for  building.  One  might  almost  as  well  insist  upon  its  furnish- 
ing men  with  mental  faculties.  At  the  same  time,  Quintilian's 
notion  that  only  a  well-informed  man  can  write  well, — that,  in 
this  art,  as  everywhere  in  nature,  nothing  comes  out  of  nothing, 
— is  an  important  truth.  Dr.  Shedd's  maxim,  printed  on  the 
title-page  of  this  volume,  is  even  more  binding  on  the  writer, 
who  addresses  his  thousands,  than  on  the  speaker,  who  has 
comparatively  a  small  audience. 

II.    The  Sciences  that  give  Laws  to  Rhetoric. 

The  relations  of  Rhetoric  to  its  nomothetical  sciences  will  be 
better  understood,  perhaps,  in  a  careful  consideration  of  the 
following  distinctions. 

1.  Science,  Art,  Criticism. — Science  analyzes  the  finished 
art-product  or  other  fact  presented  to  it,  in  order  to  discover 
the  laws  of  its  being.  By  way  of  preparation,  it  observes  and 
classifies  all  the  related  facts  and  processes.  Its  work,  there- 
fore, is  one  of  discovery,  and  tends  to  knowledge.  Art  teaches 
the  rules  by  which  this  finished  product  is  constructed ;  either 
grounding  these  rules  upon  the  related  science  or  sciences,  or 
stating  them  arbitrarily.  Its  work,  therefore,  is  essentially  con- 
structive, and  tends  to  skill.  "  It  uses  knowledge,  not  as  knowl- 
edge, but  as  power." 1  Criticism  examines  the  product,  in  order 
to  pronounce  upon  its  merits  or  demerits,  basing  itself  upon 
knowledge  of  both  the  art-rules  and  the  scientific  principles. 
Its*work,  therefore,  is  judgment,  and  tends  to  the  improvement 
of  the  art-product. 

2.  Pure  and  Applied  Science. — Science  is  either  Pure  or 
Applied  ; — Pure,  when  it  teaches  necessary  truths  as  abstract 

'A.  S.  Hill,  p.  111. 


332  APPENDIX. 

propositions  ;  Applied,  when  it  adapts  these  truths  to  particular 
concrete  cases.  "Applied  Science  is  a  knowledge  of  facts, 
events,  or  phenomena,  as  explained,  accounted  for,  or  produced 
by  means  of  powers,  causes,  or  laws.  Pure  Science  is  the  know- 
ledge of  these  powers,  causes,  or  laws,  considered  apart,  or  as 
pure  from  all  applications."  Hence,  the  principles  of  pure 
science  are  always  true,  true  in  themselves  and  in  all  possible 
cases :  the  principles  of  applied  science  are  true  only  as  applied, 
and  in  the  special  cases. 

3.  Theory. — Theory  is  a  body  of  scientific  principles  under- 
lying and  explaining  or  justifying  the  rules  of  an  art;  or  it  is 
the  study  of  these  rules  viewed  in  the  light  of  their  underlying 
principles.  Hence,  it  is  properly  opposed  to  Practice, — a  sense, 
says  Sir  William  Hamilton,1  in  which  it  both  was  known  to  the 
Ancients  and  is  now  commonly  used  on  the  continent  of  Europe. 

Hence,  (1)  Art  is  more  than  Applied  Science  ;  for  the  latter 
is  content  to  knoiu  the  truth  in  the  special  case,  while  the 
former  is  dissatisfied  until  it  has  done  the  work  that  the  appli- 
cation of  the  truth  enables  it  to  do.  Art  promotes  skill; 
Applied  Science  teaches  special  truths.  For  example,  Survey- 
ing may  be  taught  either  as  an  applied  science  or  as  an  art. 
As  the  one,  it  seeks  only  knowledge  for  its  own  sake  ;  as  the 
other,  it  seeks  to  make  skilled  surveyors.  (2)  Science  and 
Art  are  incompatible  terms, — terms,  that  is,  which  are  not 
affirmable  of  the  same  object  at  the  same  time.  The  same 
name,  indeed,  may  be  given  to  both  science  and  art ; — for  ex- 
ample, to  Mechanics,  which  is  either  "the  science  of  the 
action  of  forces  on  bodies  "  or  the  art  of  constructing  machines 
and  other  mechanical  contrivances  ; — but,  unless  the  two  things 
so  named  are  only  one  and  the  same  thing,  it  is  no  more 
true  that  they  are  at  once  a  science  and  an  art,  than 
it  is  that  two  men,  both  named  John  Smith,  are  only  one 
man.  Confusion  is  often  created  by  this  loose  way  of  speak- 
ing, and  serious  errors  have  been  inculcated  by  it.  (3)  Sci- 
ence and  Theory,  though  often  interchanged,  are,  in  fact, 
essentially  different  terms,  and  should  not  be  confused.  The 
scientific  principles  on  which  an  art  is  based  are  often  drawn 
(as  is  the  case  in  Rhetoric)  from  several  nomothetical  sci- 
ences ;  and,  in  this  case,  though  they  constitute  a  theory,  they 
can  not  be  said  to  constitute  a  science:  they  are  only  excerpts 
from  several  sciences.     Even  when  they  all  come  from  a  sin- 

1  Metaphysics,  Edited  by  Bowen,  p.  113. 


APPENDIX.  333 

gle  science,  they  are,  with  reference  to  the  art,  plainly  not  a 
science  but  only  a  body  of  scientific  principles  underlying  the 
rules  of  an  art, — that  is,  a  theory.  This  error  has  led  to  erro- 
neous definitions,  as  well  as  to  false,  and,  therefore,  misleading, 
conceptions  of  the  nature  of  art. 

In  order  of  time,  the  art-product  is  always  evolved  first ; 
then  come  rules  ;  and  finally,  the  underlying  theory  is  made  out, 
and  both  rules  and  theory  are  arranged  in  a  system,     (i)  Prac- 
tice necessarily  precedes  theory  ;  for  neither  scientific  principles 
nor  rules  for  work  can  be  discovered  except  through  experi- 
ence, and  this  experience  ' '  can  have  no  foundation,  other  than 
previous  practice.      Such   must    obviously   be    the   case   with 
all  the  arts.     Many  a   house  must  have  been  built,  before  a 
system  of  architecture  could  be  formed ;  many  a  poem  com- 
posed, before  an  art  of  poetry  could  be  written."1     (2)  Rules 
are  always  suggested  by  the  work  already  done,  and  are  inferred 
from  it.     At  first,  they  are  but  "rules  of  thumb,"— mere  dicta 
of  experience,  liable  to  revision,  correction,  and  even  retracta- 
tion ;  but  later,  when  brought  to  the  bar  of  Criticism  and  care- 
fully tested,  they  become  more  accurate  and  more  trustworthy.2 
This  criticism,  it  is  true,  is  at  first  uncertain,  because  without  a 
sufficient  foundation  in  knowledge  ;    but,  the  underlying  art- 
theory  being  once  detected, — knowledge  exists  abundantly,  and 
Criticism  has  a  fair  field.     (3)  Finally,  guesses  are  made  at  the 
"why"  of  the  rules  ;  scientific  principles  are  brought  forward 
to  explain  or  justify  them  ; — that  is,  a  theory  of  the  art  is  con- 
structed ;  while  the  rules  themselves  are  more  and  more  revised, 
till  they  are  perfected  into  a  system.     Thenceforward,  the  art, 
its  theory,  and  intelligent  criticism  of  the  art-work  are  mutually 
dependent;  each  throws  light  upon  the  others  ;  each  helps  to 
make  the  others  perfect. 

In  the  light  of  all  this,  Rhetoric  is  plainly  not  a  science,  but 
an  art.  Its  end  is  to  construct  the  composition,  not  to  discover 
knowledge.  Its  rules  are  the  dicta  of  experience  ;  its  under- 
lying principles,  truths  drawn  from  four  nomothetical  sciences ; 
and  the  phrase  science  of  Rhetoric  is  simply  a  blunder  for 
theory  of  Rhetoric. 

'John  Quincy  Adams,  Lectures,  I.  pp.  73,  74. 

2  In  Pope's  trite  couplet, — 

"  Those  rules,  of  old  discovered,  not  devis'd, 
Are  Nature  still,  but  Xature  methodiz'd." 


334  APPENDIX. 

III.  The  True  Method  of  Studying  Rhetoric. 

The  principles  thus  established  would  seem  to  determine, 
also,  beyond  dispute,  the  correct  method  of  studying  Rhet- 
oric, (i)  The  goal  before  the  student  should  be  skill  in 
writing  and  speaking ;  (2)  the  order  of  study  should  be  the 
order  of  development,  and  no  one  of  the  three  elements, 
Practice,  Rules,  Principles,  should  be  omitted;  (3)  the  study 
should  rest  on  all  the  nomothetical  sciences — not  on  any 
number  less  than  all. 

And  yet  the  study  of  Rhetoric  has  constantly  proceeded  in 
violation  of  one  or  more  of  these  principles. 

( 1 )  Rhetoric  has  been  treated  as  if  its  chief  end  were  to  make 
critics,  not  writers.  It  has  tended  to  skill  in  judging,  not  in 
constructing.  Hence,  not  only  has  undue  importance  been 
attached  to  the  form  of  discourse,  and  too  little  attention 
been  paid  to  the  thought  expressed,  but  the  course  has  been 
narrowed  to  a  theoretical  discussion  of  rules  and  principles, 
while  practice  in  composition  has  been  wholly  or  in  great 
part  omitted. 

(2)  The  natural  order  of  teaching  the  art  has  been  inverted, 
and  one  or  more  of  its  three  elements  been  omitted  or  else 
unduly  emphasized.1  Hence,  three  mistakes  in  the  methods  of 
teaching; — (a)  Rules  and  principles  are  put  before  practice  in 
writing,  although  it  is  practice  that  in  the  highest  degree 
makes  rules  and  principles  intelligible.  Earlier  practice  in 
composition,  (such  as  is,  or  certainly  was,  common  in  the 
preparatory  schools,)  is  confined  to  the  writing  of  themes; 
and  the  student,  who  is  ill-prepared  for  such  work,  gains  but 
little  benefit  from  it.  Simple  exercises  in  sentence-building 
or  in  the  recasting  of  work  that  is  more  or  less  defective, — 
exercises  that  tell  most  powerfully  on  all  subsequent  prac- 
tice, and  which  need  only  the  briefest  rules  by  way  of  sug- 
gestion to  guide  the  student, — such  exercises  are  rarely  em- 
ployed.2 (b)  A  second  blunder  results  from  the  error  already 
noted,  the  error  of  treating  Rhetoric  as  the  art  of  Criticism. 
Men  whose  end  in  teaching  is  only  to  make  competent  judges 
of   discourse,   can   not    be    expected  to   value    highly  either 

1  In  all  arts,  the  greatest  amount  of  attention  must,  of  course,  be  given  to 
practice;  but  this  greatest  amount  is  not  necessarily  an  undue  amount. 

2  How  to  Write  Clearly  is  a  capital  book  for  the  purpose. 


APPENDIX.  335 

rules  for  composition  or  practice  in  it.  Hence,  their  instruction 
omits  both  rules  and  practice,  while  it  gives  at  length  abstract 
discussions  of  the  scientific  truths  (especially,  the  truths  of 
^Esthetics)  that  underlie  the  art.  Rhetoric  with  them  becomes 
a  philosophical  study,  both  interesting  and  profitable  in  itself, 
but  contributing  as  little  as  may  be  towards  the  making  of  com- 
petent writers,  (c)  Still  more  serious,  because  (if  possible) 
more  misleading,  is  the  error  of  teaching  Rhetoric  by  practice 
alone, — practice  guided  only  by  "rules  of  thumb"  and  the 
study  of  worthy  models.  Whatever  value  an  empirical  study 
of  Rhetoric  may  have,  formal  Rhetoric  has  also  its  place  in 
the  course ;  for,  had  not  practice  needed  the  guidance  of 
underlying  truths,  only  one  element  of  art  would  in  all 
probability  have  been  developed.  The  very  men  who  quarrel 
most  bitterly  with  formal  Rhetoric  are  often  the  men  who, 
unconsciously,  to  be  sure,  seek  its  aid.  Macaulay  is  a  notable 
example.1 

(3)  Rhetoric  has  not  been  based  on  all  its  nomothetical 
sciences,  but  now  on  one  of  them,  now  upon  two.  Campbell 
starts  from  his  famous  dictum,  "  It  is  by  the  sense  that  Rhetoric 
holds  of  Logic,  and  by  the  expression  that  she  holds  of  Gram- 
mar." Blair  grounds  his  work  on  ^Esthetics  Theremin 
thinks  Eloquence  a  virtue.  Whately  says  Rhetoric  is  an 
offshoot  of  Logic.  Day  seems  to  have  been  the  first  to 
state  formally  the  truth  that  Rhetoric  rests  on  four  nomo- 
thetical sciences.  The  opposite  belief  has  enfeebled  and  be- 
littled the  art,  and  disgusted  many  really  sensible  persons, 
who  have  (unfairly,  no  doubt,  but  not  unnaturally)  charged 
the  vices  of  "fine  writing,"  puerility,  desultoriness,  etc.,  on  the 
art  that  professed  to  teach  something  better,  but  failed.  As  a 
result,  "Rhetoric  has  become  extremely  superficial  in  its  char- 
acter and  influence,  so  that  the  term  '  rhetorical '  has  become 
the  synonym  of  shallow  and  showy."2  "  Considered  as  jew- 
elry and  rouge"  says  another  author,  "Rhetoric  is  sufficiently 
contemptible. ' ' 3 

1Compare  the  parallel  cases  of  Engineering  and  other  scientific  professions. 
The  civil  engineer  was  once  trained  in  the  field,  the  geologist  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth.  To-day  they  are  instructed — some  say  over-instructed— in  colleges, 
and  in  nothing  more  than  in  the  underlying  truths  of  their  arts.  Who  would 
think  of  showing  a  raw  country  boy  a  finished  bridge  or  a  "crack"  coal-mine? 

2W.  G.  T.  Shedd,  Preface  to  Theremin,  p.  x. 

3  T.  Starr  King,  in  Whipple's  Introduction  to  Substance  and  Show,  p.  xii. 


336  APPENDIX. 

IV.  Certain  Technical  Terms  of  Rhetoric. 

The  following  table  will  help  the  student  as  he  reads  the 
older  modern  or  the  ancient  writers  on  Rhetoric  ; — 


Greek. 
'H  (jiyyt))  pJJTopi/crj. 

TS.vpeca. 

Aoyos. 

Ao-yioTT)!. 
Ae'fis. 

'PriTopeia. 


Latin. 
(Ars)  Rhetorica. 

Exercitatio. 
lnventio. 

Oratio,  Eloquentia. 

Eloquentia. 
Elocutio. 

Oratoria. 


English. 

Rhetoric.1 
<  Composition.2 
\  Oratory.2 

Invention.8 

(Composition.* 
Discourse.1 
Eloquence.3 
Eloquence.6 
f  Elocution.5 
I  Style.8 
f  Oratory. 
"^  Elocution. 


Certain  terms — oratory,  eloquence  (in  the  sense  of  the  Greek 
loytoTT/s),  and  elocution — refer  wholly  to  spoken  discourse.  The 
other  terms  have  the  double  reference  to  either  speech  or  writing. 


V.  The  Latin  Word  Tropus. 

What  did  tropics — Greek  rpoKoc  and  Tpoitr] — mean?  Cicero 
(Brutus,  xvii.)  defines  t(>6ttoq  as  verborum  immutationes,  and 
says  that  the  Greeks  called  sententiarum  orationisque  formas 
axwara.  But  Quintilian  says,  "  Tropus  est  verbi  vet  sermonis 
.  .  .  mutatio,"  and,  "vertique  formas  non  verborum  modo, 
sed  et  sensuum  et  compositionis.  Quare  mihi  videntur  errasse, 
qui  non  alios  crediderunt  tropos,  quam  in  quibus  verbum  pro 
verbo  poneretur."'1  Curiously  enough,  no  Greek  writer  now 
extant  seems  to  have  used  rporrof  in  its  rhetorical  sense,  and 
Lucianus  alone  of  Greek  writers  (A.  D.  160?)  has  Tp6rr?j  in  this 
meaning.  [See  Liddell  and  Scott's  Lexicon,  s.  vv.~\  More 
than  this,  the  confusion  of  trope  and  figure — especially  the 
modern  use  of  figure  as  genus — had  begun  in  Quintilian's  time.8 

i g  i,  above.  2£  10  ft",  above.  3§  23,  above.  4§3,  above. 

5  Obsolete  in  this  sense.— Eloquence  seems  to  be  used  sometimes  by  Camp- 
bell to  mean  as  much  as  Rhetoric.     (See.  I.  i.) 
6 Theremin  defines  Eloquence  as  "thought  in  a  flood." 
'VIII.vi.T-3.    Cf.  IX.  i.  4.  six.  i.  2. 


INDEX. 


Abbreviations,  92. 

Abstruseness,  252. 

^Esthetics,  14. 

Alienisms,  76. 

Ambiguity,  254 ;  in  pronouns,  25S  ;  in 
negatives,  260. 

Anglo-Saxon  words,  139. 

Antitnesis,  237. 

Anticipation,  170. 

Archaisms,  85. 

Arrangement,  19  ;  grammatical,  94  ;  of 
words  and  clauses,  160 ;  unusual  for 
emphasis,  163  ;  in  persuasion,  327. 

Argument,  309  ;  proposition  in,  315. 

Art,  331. 

Balanced  sentence,  184. 

Barbarisms,  86. 

Bathos,  220. 

Brevity,  149;  exceptions  to,  154  ;  viola- 
tions of  from  excess,  152  ;  from  defi- 
ciency, 156;  means  to,  158. 

Burden  of  proof,  the,  317. 

Canons  for  divided  use,  127 ;  of  the 
whole  composition,  232. 

Choice  of  words,  133. 

Circumlocution,  152. 

Clauses,  order  of  in  sentence,  160;  modi- 
fying, 166. 

Clearness,  254. 

Climax,  220. 

Colloquialisms,  124. 

Composition,  9, 12  ;  the  whole,  223  ;  parts 
of,  223  ;  canons  of,  232. 

Compositions  with  respect  to  form,  23 ; 
to  intrinsic  character,  30 ;  to  pur- 
pose, 49. 

Completeness,  234. 

Comparison  and  contrast,  294,  308. 

Compounds,  89. 

Condensed  sentence,  188. 

Connectives,  175,  200. 

Conjunctions,  initial,  203. 

22  337 


Conclusion,  the,  223. 
Continuousness,  250. 
Contrast,  294,  308. 
Criticism,  331. 

Dartmouth  College  case,  30. 

Definition,  292  ;  of  Rhetoric,  9,  329. 

Departments  of  Rhetoric,  19. 

Description,  294,  299. 

Dicta,  16. 

Diction,  51 ;  varieties  of,  114;  of  poetry, 
116  ;  figures  of,  236. 

Discourse,  9  ;  matter,  or  content,  of,  14  ; 
form  of,  14,  50 ;  kinds  of,  23  ;  repre- 
sentative, 36. 

Discussion,  the,  223,  287  ;  general  rules 
for,  288  ;  modes  of,  290. 

Divided  use,  125  ;    canons  for,  127. 

Division,  294,  306. 

Due  proportion  in  sentence,  194  ;  in 
paragraph,  219. 

Elegance,  278. 

Elements  of  style,  52,  132. 

Emphasis,  162. 

Ethics,  14. 

Excitation,  320  ;  proposition  in,  321. 

Exceptions  to  purity,  114  ;  to  brevity,  154. 

Exemplification,  294,  307. 

Explanation,  291 ;  proper,  293;  pathetic, 

320. 
Explicit   reference  in  sentence,  174  ;  by 

repetition,  178;  in  paragraph,  198. 

Figures  of  speech,  235  ;  of  diction,  236; 

of  thought,  236  ;   rules  for,  243. 
Force,  262. 

Form  of  Discourse,  14,  50. 
Fundamental  maxims,  16. 

Good  use,  55  ;  characteristics  of,  64. 
Grammar,  14. 

Grammatical  purity,  53  ;  propriety,  87  ; 
precision,  95. 


INDEX. 


338 

Harmony,  275. 
Humor,  271. 
Hybridism,  91. 
Hypothesis,  311. 

Idiotisms,  69. 
Illustration,  308. 
Improprieties,  86,  111. 
Impassioned  prose,  119. 
Initial    topic    sentence,    197;     conjunc- 
tions, 203. 
Introduction,  the,  223. 
Invention,  19,  281. 
Issue,  the  point  at,  310. 

Kinds  of  discourse,  23. 

Language,  10. 

Letter,  the,  35. 

Literature  and  Rhetoric,  22. 

Logic,  14. 

Long  and  short  words,  146  ;  sentences, 

179. 
Loose  sentence,  179. 
Ludicrous,  the,  271. 

Maxims,  fundamental,  16. 
Matter,  or  content,  of  discourse,  14. 
Means  to  brevity,  158. 
Melody,  275. 
Metre,  23. 

Method  of  paragraph,  214;  of  whole 
composition,  233 ;  of  studying  Rheto- 
ric, 334- 

Metric  prose,  26,  119. 

Modes  of  discussion,  290. 

Modifiers,  162. 

Modifying  clauses,  166. 

Motives,  325. 

Narration,  294,  296. 
National  use,  65. 
Naturalness,  250. 
Negatives,  ambiguous,  260. 
Neologisms,  85. 
Nomothetical  sciences,  14,  331. 
Nonsensical,  the,  248. 
Novel,  the,  42. 
Number  of  words,  149. 

Obverse  repetition,  308. 
Offenses  against  purity,  69. 
<  h-atory,  30;   spurious,  248. 
Order  of  words  and  clauses  in  sentence, 
160. 


Paragraph,    196;     initial     topic    sen- 
tence, 197;  parallel   construction,  209 ; 
method,  214  ;   unity,  216  ;   due  propor- 
tion in,  219. 
Parallel  construction  in  paragraph,  209. 
Parentheses,  192. 
Paraphrase,  152. 
Partition,  294,  307. 
Pathetic  explanation,  320. 
Pathos,  268. 
Periphrasis,  152. 
Perspicuity,  254. 

Periodic  sentence,  170. 

Persuasion,  324  ;  proposition  in,  327. 

Phraseology,  51. 

Pleonasm,  152. 

Poetry,  44. 

Point  at  issue,  the,  310. 

Precision,  grammatical,  95;   rhetorical, 

254- 
Present  use,  67. 
Presumption,  the,  317. 
Prolixity,  152. 
Pronouns,  relative,  as  connectives,  177, 

202  ;  ambiguous,  258. 
Properties  of  language,  51. 
Propriety,  rhetorical,  87  ;    grammatical, 

95- 
Proportion,   due,   in   sentence,    194;     in 

paragraph,  219. 
Proposition,  the,  223  ;  in  argument,  315  ; 

in  excitation,  321 ;  in  persuasion,  327. 
Proofs,  311. 
Prose,  24;    metric,  26,  119;    rhythmic, 

27  ;  impassioned,  119. 
Prose  rhythm,  25. 
Provincialisms,  76. 
Purity,   grammatical,    53:    standard   of, 

55 ;    offenses  against,   69 ;    exceptions 

to,  114. 


Qualities  of  style,  52,  247. 
Question  raised,  the,  310. 

Redundancy,  152. 

Relative  pronoun  as  connective,  177,202. 

Repetition,  tautological,  152;  justifi- 
able, 154  ;  for  emphasis,  163  ;  for  ex- 
plicit reference,  17S,  200;  obverse,  308. 

Reputable  use,  64. 

Representative  discourse,  36. 

Rhetoric  denned,  9,  329 ;  proper,  12  ; 
departments  of,  19  ;  sciences  that  give 


INDEX. 


339 


laws  to,  14,  331  ;  true  method  of  study- 
ing, 334  ;  certain  technical  terms  of,  336. 

Rhetoric  and  Literature,  22. 

Rhetorical  propriety,  S7  ;  precision,  254. 

Rhythm,  23;  of  prose,  25. 

Rhythmic  prose,  27. 

Romance,  42. 

Satire,  271. 

Schemata,  236. 

Sciences  nomothetical  to  Rhetoric,  14, 

331- 

Science,  331 ;  pure  and  applied,  331. 

Selection,  233. 

Sentence,  the,  160 ;  order  of  words  and 
clauses  in,  160;  periodic,  170;  loose, 
170;  explicit  reference,  174  ;  long  and 
short,  179  ■  balanced,  184;  condensed, 
188;  unity/of^iSS  ;  due  pre  portion  in, 
194;    initial  topic,  197. 

Shall  and  will,  108. 

Short  and  long  words,  146 ;  sentences, 
179. 

Significance,  248. 

Simplicity,  252. 

Solecisms,  86,  94. 

Spurious  oratory,  248. 

Standard  of  purity,  55. 

Style,  19,  50;  elements  of,  52,  132  ;  quali- 
ties of,  52,  247. 

Suspense,  170. 

Taste,  278. 
Tautology,  152. 


Technicalities,  76. 

Terms,  10;  technical,  of  Rhetoric,  336. 

That,  ivho  and  which,  106. 

Theory,  311,  332. 

Theme,  282. 

Thought,  9  ;  figures  of,  236. 

Tropes,  236. 

Tropus,  the  Latin  word,  336. 

Unity,  of  sentence,  iSS  ;  Blair's  rules 
f  >r,  190;  of  paragraph,  216;  uf  whole 
composition,  232. 

Use,  55  ;  reputable,  64 ;  national,  65  ; 
present,  67  ;  divided,  125. 

Variety,  278. 

Verbosity,  152. 

Verse,  23. 

Violations  of  purity,  69;  of  brevity,  152, 

156. 
Vocabulary,  133. 
Vulgarisms,  69. 

Webster,    Dartmouth     College      case, 

3°- 

W'lio,  which  and  that,  106. 

Whole  composition,  the,  223;  canons  of, 
232. 

Will  and  shall,  io3. 

Wit,  271. 

Words,  choice  of,  133;  Anglo-Saxon, 
139;  short  and  long,  146;  number  of, 
149;  order  of  in  sentence,  160;  em- 
phatic,162  ;  ambiguous,  256. 


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